Synonymy
by Ruaki
Summary: Syn:03c1 added. RikuSora. They have always walked the same path, yet nothing lasts forever. On a road of darkness & light, they went their separate ways till the trails converged and crossed, treading where the other went before.
1. Synonymy:00

**Title**: Synonymy:00  
**Author name**: Ruaki []  
**Author email**: ruakichan@aol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingd*m Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! @.@

**Author's Note**: I would definitely like to thank my beta, Aachan, for countlessly reading this thing over and over and her helpful suggestions. x.x ... so if there's a mistake, it's her fault! ::big grin:: Otherwise, uh, yah. RikuSora. 

======================= 

_'All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream.' ~ **Edgar Allen Poe**_

=== 

~You.~  
~No, I.~  
~You and I?~  
~I and You?~  
~Me and Him.~  
~Him and Me.~  
~We?~ 

~We're...~ 

Drowning. 

Sinking into the liquid, cut off from precious air, I struggled sluggishly, desperate to escape from this watery prison. Far below--or above?--a soft violet light illuminated the murky waters, sending dancing shards of amethyst glittering around me. Lungs burning, mind searing with irrational thoughts of dreams and imaginings, eyes straining to see something not there... what a miserable way to die. 

**[I've been having these weird thoughts lately... ]**

An undertow snagged my limbs, dragging me closer to the unknown light. Unable to bear it any longer, I released the breath I was holding, watching air bubbles float away from my streaking body with the certainty that death was near. 

**[What lies beyond the door?]**

Water rushed into my nostrils and gulping mouth; my hand reached for the faraway surface as I cried out soundlessly. Purple light engulfed me, blinded me, consumed me. 

No, I couldn't die yet! Sora! 

The sky glittered clear and blue. 

Clouds floated lazily by, big puffy clouds that children loved to shape into recognizable forms in their minds. An albatross coasted an air current, seemingly hanging motionless in the air, sleek body tilting only slightly left and right. The raucuous calls of seagulls weren't as harsh as usual, and the crash of waves was soft, if not still. 

The sky was so brilliantly blue. 

I stood on a jeweled beach, dry and alive. Uncut emeralds cracked under my heavy boots, spreading as far as the eye can see. The stones kissed the sky at the flat horizon in the distance behind me, a soft gradient of green to azure. I gazed curiously down at them; they lacked the sharp gleam associated with the gem, their dull luster a barrier to the treasure they could be molded into. 

Surf washed over the rocks and the tips of my boots, frothy seafoam bubbling among the gems. The hairs along my neck pricked, and I glanced sharply up, toward the ocean. 

Someone was standing on the water, facing away from the emerald beach. 

White hair caught in the gentle sea breeze.  
Black leather encased a broad, tall form.  
White sheathed hands spread wide as if to embrace the empty ocean before him. 

I half-stepped forward, throat working. He was.. dead, wasn't he? The light destroyed him. Yes, I saw it. From behind the door. 

Or had I been dreaming? Trapped in the darkness, had I simply dreamt that Sora won just to keep the hope alive? 

My mouth formed the name. Ansem. And as if the sound had been uttered, the stranger turned, feet barely rippling the surface of the water. 

He smiled, a grin I was all too familiar with, a smile that spoke everything openly and without deceit. It made those glowing blue eyes crinkle, made teeth flash in the sun with boyish charm that would never be lost to maturity. It was the smile used when he desired something that I didn't want to give. 

Sora held out his hand to me, beckoning. 

Not Ansem. I rubbed an eye with the palm of a hand. But it was Ansem. I blinked. No, it wasn't Ansem. Sora. Sora. Sora with his wild untamed dark hair and easy manner, the swagger of a boy that wanted to prove himself, with all the naive charm and moral sense of a storybook hero. He was a hero. A great hero. Yes. A hero. And I was the villain. 

Do you forgive me? 

My feet moved of their own accord, splashing into the brine. My arms lifted of their own volition, reaching out desperately toward this boy as I stumbled further out into the ocean, water swishing around my knees and rising ever higher. It was hard to move quickly, but I stubbornly waded forward, eyes focused on the boy waiting for me atop the water's surface, fingers outstretched to clasp mine. 

Sora, Sora, Sora, the sky is so blue. Are you happy now? With her? Do you forgive me? 

With cool water up to my neck now, I began to paddle, one arm held out for him. Yet, the distance remained the same between us. He was just as far away as ever, still smiling at me and waiting patiently. Sora? Sora, I can't reach you. Water closed over my head, and I gasped, thrusting my body upward to stay above water, fingers clenching over the figure of Sora in my vision. Sora, tell me, do you forgive me? 

Suddenly I was dragged under, dipping beneath the water again, a weight leeching onto my leg. Frantic at the loss of visual contact with Sora more than the fear of drowning, I whipped my head downward. 

The giant key glittered in the sunbeams streaming through the sea, the keychain at its end wrapped tightly around my ankle. The tiny crown dangling freely from the chain reminded me of Sora's pendant, the necklace he loved dearly. 

His keyblade. It was weighing me down, pulling me deeper into the unknown. It was killing me. 

I'm sorry. Do you forgive me? I can't forgive myself until you do. Did you believe in me? Did you follow me to the darkness because I was your friend? Or because I was your enemy? 

Lifting my eyes, I watched the surface of the water spiral away, saw myself look down through the water from where Sora once stood. He watched me without emotion, arm extended... And then closed his eyes, outstretched hand clamping shut and pulling away. The other me turned, and as light clouded my vision, his back became the last thing I saw. 

Somewhere, far away, a door locked as another opened. 

**[Don't be afraid of the darkness.]**  
**[You are the one who will open the door.]**

**[E ancora una volta]**  
**[Apriranno le porte]**

=========== 

BGM-00: Destati, Kingdom Hearts  
translation:  
_And once again_  
_They will open the doors_


	2. Synonymy:01

**Title**: Synonymy:01  
**Author name**: Ruaki []  
**Author email**: ruakichan@aol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingd*m Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! @.@

**Author's Note**: I would definitely like to thank my beta, Aachan, for countlessly reading this thing over and over and her helpful suggestions. x.x ... so if there's a mistake, it's her fault! ::big grin:: Otherwise, uh, yah. RikuSora. 

======================= 

_Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache; Do be my enemy--for friendship's sake. ~**William Blake**_

==== 

The sand was slick, wet. Feet pounded into the mush, leaving deep imprints that trailed far behind him. White-capped surf rolled ferociously onto the beach, washing up stringy kelp and wriggling fish. The sea was writhing beneath the boiling sky, charged by the coming storm, and the wind huffed fiercely, whipping at his hair wildly. The strands kept blinding him, and he held them out of his eyes with one hand in frustration. 

Still running, he glanced up overhead, at the brilliant strokes of reds and purples that stained the clouds. Lightning flashed jaggedly, sparks brightening the heavy, dark clouds with thunder following not but a moment after. There was no scent of rain, however. The tinge of salt in the ocean gusts left an odd taste in his mouth, stale and metallic. It wasn't like the usual feeling he was accustomed to from many years living on the archipelago. 

There was a touch of foreboding here, a sense of impending doom. 

A lump of hard sand caught his foot, and he stumbled. Cursing his own clumsiness, he straightened, ready to resume his run, but a faint sound gave him pause. It was soft, hardly heard over the wind, yet the eerie familiarity of it was enough to still his heart. 

Soft sibiliant whispers, dry and scratchy, like the sound of sliding snake scales. 

He slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder, watching with a sort of detached curiousity as a lump of black congealed from the grains of sand, silently growing and gaining shape. Two pinpricks of light, brilliant as the sun, floated in the inky blackness of the creature's head and stared at him with something not unlike naked hunger. 

And all around, many more formed, completely black, as if with no substance, but they had shapes and arms and legs and heads and those hideously burning eyes... 

He knew these things. He knew them, and the rush of knowledge and memories that flooded into his mind frightened him more than the Heartless that began to gather about him. 

The whispers grew louder, repeating syllables mindlessly to form words. 

+++++++++b+u+t++i++w+o+n+'+t++c+r+y++f+o+r++y+e+s+t+e+r+d+a+y+++++++++

"Hey, feeling better?" 

I lifted my head from mooring my boat to glance at the speaker, squinting in the bright sun. Sora was crouched at the edge of the dock, grinning down at me with his usual toothy impishness. The sun framed his unkempt hair, like some sort of weird halo, lifting pale highlights in what was usually just a giant mass of brown. 

Tying the last knot, I straightened, hands plunking onto hips as I flashed a smirk at him. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't, now would I?" 

Sora's grin just widened knowingly. "Yeah, you would." I made a face at him, hopping lightly up onto the wooden dock. 

It was still just early morning, but the usual crowd was already here. This particular islet in the Destiny Island string was the not-so-secret base for many of the islander children. I could already see Tidus and Wakka practicing their respective weapons, and Selphie, one of the few girls willing to brave adventure and sun, was chatting the ear off one of the newbies about 'house rules.' 

"You know, if you're still not feeling well, you probably shouldn't be here." Sora's voice brought my attention back to him, and I frowned slightly, but the concerned look that filled his eyes quickly alleviated any annoyance I might've felt. "I mean, it was only last week when you fainted, and it's your first day outside since then..." He trailed off, suddenly interested in his shoes. 

Right. Last week. My eyes fluttered shut for a second, not wanting to remember last week. Especially last week's fever dreams that seemed so terribly real that I woke up screaming every single time. I wouldn't have minded the burning heat, weak muscles, loss of appetite, and claustrophobia so much if I didn't suffer from those damned dreams. And even though I finally recovered from the illness, I still get the occasional repeat nightmare... 

**[I'm not afraid of the darkness!]**

"Riku?" 

I smiled reassuringly before springing on him to capture his neck in the crook of my arm in an invincible headlock. "I'm not a girly pansy like yoooou, Sora," I teased, digging a knuckle into his scalp good-naturedly as he flailed. "I can take care of myself." 

Sora pushed at the arm looped around his head, trying to shove it off as his face turned red. "Leggo!" 

"What's the magic word?" I lived for moments like this. 

His bright yellow shoes stamped on the dock hollowly. "Now!" 

Chuckling lightly, I released him with a little push and he teetered, arms pinwheeling. He managed to save some dignity by not falling, instead whirling around to glare at me, face screwed into a Sora-pout. There was no other way to describe it other than as a Sora-pout; it was a look I've seen only on him, where his face scrunches together, and his lips pucker out as if waiting to be kissed, and his eyes slightly narrow in a way that was meant to be menacing but fell a little short. 

That was the look on his face now, and for a wild second, something deep inside me wanted to lean over and answer those waiting lips with mine. 

Time stopped, the world stilled. 

And then Sora stuck out his tongue at me, crossing his eyes. The world moved again and my heart continued beating. The feeling of disappointment that rippled over my initial relief surprised me. 

"Well, if you're doing _sooooo_ much better, _you_ can leash together the logs on the raft today." Sora tossed his head, grinning as if he won the upper hand. 

I just shrugged nonchalantly, my indifference crushing what he felt was a small victory over me. "I thought we finished the raft." 

His brows raised and he shook his head. Hm, that was strange. The image of a finished raft in its spot along the inner beach during a marvellously red sunset was strong in my mind. I could've sworn we finished it... well... no, that wouldn't have made sense anyway. No way Kairi and Sora could've finish the raft without my strength and know-how... 

Sora thumped along the dock to the end, jumping off to land clumsily in the sand. "Come on!" With a gesture to follow him, he started to run along the shoreline toward the passage that led to the lagoon. "I'll race you!" And he laughed, cause he damn well knew he gave himself a large head start before issuing the challenge. 

Nevertheless, I chased after him. "Guess the only way you can beat me is if you cheat, huh?" Sora didn't answer and just continued to sprint toward the goal. I smiled, my feet falling into the impressions he left behind in the sand, content to let him pave the path today. We always walked in the same direction, but not always side by side. Yet, at the end of the trail, I knew he'd be waiting for me, just as I'd always wait for him. Cause that was how it always was. 

Behind me, people would only see one set of footprints without realizing two souls crossed there. 

+++++++++t+h+e+r+e+'+s++a+n++o+r+d+i+n+a+r+y++w+o+r+l+d+++++++++

He pressed gloved palms to his ears to keep the insane gibbering out of his mind. The shadows closed in about him, still hissing over the howling wind, long pointy fingers reaching forward to snatch at his legs. He kicked at them, connecting solidly with the head of one of the creatures, sending it flying outside the circle. The chill of the Heartless' flesh could be felt through his boot, numbing his foot painfully. 

The rest of them seemed unconcerned and unfrightened, circling tighter around him till all he could see was a mass of black with floating yellow globes. Yelling hoarsely, he shoved aside the grasping arms before him, flinging himself bodily through the ring of shadow. He rolled out of the center, quickly leaping to his feet and running once more. He had not been scared before, but fear coursed through him now; not because of the appearance of the Heartless, but because he knew what they _were,_ where they came from, why they were here, and most importantly, he knew what this meant for _him._

Blindly running without a thought of his destination, he leapt up crude wooden steps several at a time, landing on the top of a higher path that led to the waterfall beside the shanty. Here, he got a better view of the beach, despite the ever darkening night. Shadows swarmed everywhere and his friends were nowhere in sight. 

He knew if he followed this path, he would find the door. 

But beyond the beach, on the small isle where the paopu grew, a small silhouette was framed against the flickering sky. 

Shoving aside a groping Heartless, he changed course without hesitation and headed toward where he knew destiny would begin. 

~Wait for me...~ 

+++++++++s+o+m+e+h+o+w++i++h+a+v+e++t+o++f+i+n+d+++++++++

"I've been waiting forever! What took you so long?" 

Kairi frowned at the two of us, arms folded over her chest. Rubbing the back of his head, Sora avoided her eyes, but I just stared back at her, green on violet. I liked Kairi, don't get me wrong, but there is no way someone pulls that tone on me. Of course, Kairi was a lot different from most other girls; she wasn't afraid to get dirty or do work, and she had a pretty good head on her shoulders. Not too much gushing or squealing from her, and she had strong roots in reality--thank anything listening, cause I had enough trouble handling the usually absent-minded Sora. 

Tossing my head, I crossed my arms over my chest to mirror her stance. "He--" I nodded in Sora's direction, "--was trying to even out the score with another round of 'Whack-a-Sora.'" I earned a punch in the arm for that remark. 

But that explained everything, cause Kairi just sighed quietly as her eyes did a slight roll. "We still have to gather supplies for the raft if we're going to leave tomorrow, you knuckleheads." She smiled though, a little fondly, easily forgiving us. 

Still, she continued to playfully berate us, and Sora's chastised look only grew more and more sheepish. I tuned her out, glancing behind her at the finished raft, a sense of pride filling me. Sure, it wasn't the greatest thing, but _we_ built it with no help and it was going to take us places. Great places. 

**[Darkness. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness. Death.]**

I frowned as the words flashed through my head. Where did _that_ come from? .... Eh, probably an after-image of the nightmare I had this morning. I tried not to think any more about it, but the broken, bloodied figure of my Sora rose from the mists of my thoughts. His soulful eyes were no longer their bright blue, but a dull, lusterless grey, tinged by death but frozen in a state of betrayal and hurt. I couldn't look down at my own hands--I knew they'd be covered in blood, _his_ blood--and I knew I had been the person to kill him because he kept asking me 'why' which I just had no answer to-- 

"Are you listening to me, Riku?" Kairi's light voice broke through the haze swarming my vision, and I blinked rapidly at her purple and white form which was outlined with impatience. I looked for Sora but he was already running off toward the front shore. 

I turned back to Kairi, rolling my shoulders. "Uh.. yeah. We need supplies." Didn't Sora want to wait for me? Huh, oh yeah... he's probably still a little pissed about that whole race thing. Geez, I told him it was a joke... he won the race anyway... 

She huffed another sigh. "You didn't even hear a single thing I said." 

"I thought you were still chewing out Sora." Flirting was more like it. 

Kairi thrust a scrap of canvas with a list of supplies scrawled on it with charcoal at me. "Here's your half. If you have any questions, let me know." 

The list seemed pretty standard and I shoved it into the pocket of my pants. "Aye, aye, sir," I quipped, saluting before spinning on my heel. 

A hand caught my arm, staying me. "Hey, Riku, can I talk to you about something?" 

I raised a brow at her over my shoulder before facing her again. Her gaze was steady on me; Sora and Kairi were the only people that could look me in the eye for a long period of time without flinching. Something in that gaze told me that this was going to be a Pretty Serious Talk. 

Pretty Serious Talks were almost always about Sora. 

I hated them with a passion. I could never understand Kairi's need to pry into my relationship with Sora. I don't know if it was cause she's only been our friend for several years, while Sora and I were buds since long before then. Maybe she felt left out. Or maybe cause she was a girl, and couldn't understand the need for competition between two best friends that were always pushing each other to be better. 

Maybe she even knew how possessive of Sora I sometimes got... and that the way Sora doted on her drove me absolutely mad. It wasn't that I didn't like Kairi. She was cool and she was like a kid sister. 

I just didn't like how I suddenly became second best when she showed up. 

**[Take care of her.]**

Folding my arms over my chest, I waited for the lecture to begin, the words already running through my head cause I've heard it so many times. 'It's really none of my business... but... ' 

Kairi took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. "It's really none of my business..." She looked a little uncomfortable, knowing something like this was a touchy subject, and that I didn't like people who stuck their noses where they don't belong. "But..." 

'I'm a little concerned about you two.' 

Sure enough, "I'm a little concerned about you two." Of course you are, Kairi. Concerned mainly about what you think is Sora's fragile self-esteem. It is _not_ fragile, and that's because I made sure it wouldn't be fragile. Sora's strong, Kairi. He doesn't need you to meddle for him. 

The words stayed in my head though, and I just stared at a point over her left shoulder, drumming my fingers on my arm. 'Riku, you know that Sora really looks up to you... Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him. He tries his best, you know.' 

"Riku, you know that Sora really looks up to you..." Feet scuffed the sand. Hm, she was a little more nervous than usual. "Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him. He tries his best, you know." 

I stifled a yawn. Of course he does. Yet, no matter how many times I explained it to her, she didn't understand that me pushing Sora was what made him try his best. What made him better. Instead, 'you should encourage him more and pick on him less...' or so her next line would be. 

"You're really special to him." 

Pause. Blink. Rewind. I shifted my gaze onto her. 

She bit her lip, hands toying with each other. Her face was downcast, as if what she was saying was really hard for her or if she was afraid of my reaction. "You mean the world to him, and I think he feels that you're leaving him behind cause you're not the same these days..." 

I wanted to tell her exactly what was the world to Sora--_her._ And wouldn't I be the one to know? I'm his best friend; I can read Sora as easily as any book. It was pretty damned obvious too that Kairi preferred Sora's company over mine. 

Don't act like I'm the one at fault here. 

Her eyes met mine then, and she smiled bravely. "And you're important to me, too, just like how, I'm hoping, Sora and I are important to you." She touched my arms. "Don't drift away from us. Please don't shut us out. Don't shut Sora out. He really needs you, and if you're gone..." She trailed off, probably catching the resentment that was most likely crossing my face. 

Drifting away, was I? Shutting you out? Me? Oh no, no, that was definitely _not_ it. Actually, it was more like Sora and Kairi would hang out together and I'd be myself more often than not, left to gaze at the sea while remembering dreams of finding wild adventure with Sora. _I_ was not the one drifting away, _they_ were the ones shutting me out. 

Three's a crowd, after all. 

Despite all these thoughts running through my head, I couldn't vocalize any of them. They just crammed up inside my throat while Kairi kept shooting quick glances at me, waiting for me to say something, anything. 

So I said something. Anything. Jealousy was humming inside me and there was very little I could do to stop it. "I don't think he would miss me at all." Cause he still would have you, right, Kairi? The bitterness I was feeling was a little immature yes, but Sora was my friend first. He was mine first. I was jealous, I'm not ashamed to admit. And if Kairi didn't know it before, she knew it now. 

A second of silence stretched between us, broken by the cackle of seagulls. Kairi's face was shocked, surprised, as if I had just told her that the sky was green and it was raining chocolate. 

Then Kairi suddenly shot up onto her tiptoes, shoving her face near mine. Her eyes transformed from disbelieving into furious, intense balls of purple fire. "That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard!" 

I didn't back down, staring back without blinking. 

She jabbed a finger into my chest. "You're his _best friend_! Sora's not some kind of shallow fool--," I caught the insult directed at me, "--that just gives up on the people he cares about, you know!" 

**[Why do you still care about that boy?]**

"He's worried about you and I'm worried about you! You've really changed, Riku, and it's not for the better." 

**[I don't care about him!]**

"And I swear, if you ever make him cry, I'll... I'll... I'll do something really bad to you!" 

Narrowing my eyes, I slowly leaned forward till we were nose to nose. She continued to remain defiant and self-righteous, although her expression faltered slightly as I softly replied, "He would never cry for me." 

+++++++++a+n+d++a+s++i++t+r+y++t+o++m+a+k+e++m+y++w+a+y+++++++++

I avoided everyone for the remainder of the day till late afternoon. I still had the supplies Kairi requested of me, but I wasn't too eager to see her again. The Pretty Serious Talk ended poorly, and I'm sure she wasn't all that hot about seeing me again either. So she sent Sora instead to find me, to see if I got what we needed. 

His spiky head poked up over the roof edge of the shack by the waterfall, where I was lying in the cool spray, watching the clouds overhead. He grinned as I pushed myself up onto my elbows to look questioningly at him, and flipped onto the roof. 

Show off. I smiled though; Sora looked exceedingly proud of himself that he was able to execute such a complicated move. 

"Guess you're not mad at me anymore about that paopu thing?" 

"No." I was a little relieved, but it wasn't surprising. I don't think Sora knows how to hold a grudge. He plopped down beside me, peering at the bag I was using to pillow my head. "Why didn't you give those to Kairi yet?" 

I shrugged, lying back again but kept my eyes on him. 

Sora didn't seem put off by my apathetic response. "Well, I'll just haul 'em back to her later." And he flopped back to lie with me, staring at the sky, expression peaceful. I continued to watch his profile for a few moments, indulging myself to once more study the face that I knew as well as my own. Every facade, every mood and emotion, from the slightest tightening of the eyes when he was trying to keep from crying, to the way the tip of his tongue would jut out of his mouth when he was thinking, I memorized, understood, could read. 

But then, Sora never hid his emotions. That's one of the things I liked most about him; his honesty made him such an animated, passionate person, and it was easy to trust him. Even when he tried to lie, he did it poorly, eyes shifting guiltily or ears turning a slight shade of pink. So he didn't do it very often, even when we were children causing havoc. 

We had some fun times during those early years... 

"Hey, Riku." 

What happened to us, Sora? "Yeah?" Were we really drifting apart? 

"What do you think we'll find out there?" he asked. 

**[Darkness. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness. Death.]**

"Something more than what we have here," I said firmly, lifting myself up onto an elbow to look down at him. Sora's eyes were closed, chest falling and rising slowly. 

His lips stretched into a slight smile. "Something grand?" 

"It'll be grand as long as we're together," I said, fondness slipping uncalled for into my tone. Sora cocked open one eye at me. 

"You mean it?" Insecurity rang in his voice and that struck me hard in the gut. 

I pushed myself up to lean over him further, wondering how it came down to Sora actually questioning our friendship. "Yeah. We'll always be best friends, no matter what." 

He smiled brilliantly then, watching me in happiness. And I could feel my insides turn to mush in Sora's glow... 

He lifted a hand, pinky extended. "Promise?" I raised my brow at that; we haven't done this 'pinky swear' thing in years. 

Yet, his boyish grin was too hard to refuse. I hooked my pinky around his. "It's a promise." 

Crinkling his face, Sora snickered. "PINKY-SWEAR!" he shouted then, swinging our arms around wildly. 

"S-Sora!" I unlocked our fingers to grasp his hand, stilling him. His eyes continued to sparkle impishly and I made a face at him in return. "I can't believe you'd doubt me." His hand was soft in mine, and I wished that the material of our gloves wasn't a barrier between our skin. Even so, my fingers worked their way to interlock with his. 

His brow furrowed, and his gaze shot to our joined hands then back to me. "You've just been a little.. I dunno. Distant, lately." 

"What do you mean?" The feel of holding him, even a small part, was nice. 

Sora bit his bottom lip, chewing on it for a moment. Those large eyes that gave everything without taking anything filled with many emotions, so many that they were spilling over each other in an effort to be felt. "I.. have a lot of trouble understanding you now. I used to be able to know how you were feeling or what you were thinking, but now.. I don't. It's like you're hiding something from me." 

I remained silent for a moment, before lowering my head close to his, reading every feeling, and unsure if I was glad or not that what I was seeking wasn't there. I made to pull away then, but my muscles refused to comply. I was so close to Sora that I could see every eyelash, the small, almost invisible mole that graced his upper right cheekbone, smell the coconut sunblock, feel the soft dusting of breath along my cheeks. 

"Riku?" His voice was near inaudible and a little uncomfortable; I had no doubt I was invading his personal space. 

My head tilted in and our noses brushed. His eyes widened slightly, his breath quickening as his fingers clutched at my hand in a deathgrip. I paused, suddenly understanding... 

He was afraid of me. Sora, who feared very little, was afraid of me. 

I jerked away then, yanking my fingers out of his so I could grab the bag of supplies and drop it on his stomach. Grinning easily, despite the fist clutching my heart, I managed to say lightly, "Hey, don't you think you gotta get those to Kairi? She probably thinks you're laying down on the job." I roughly ruffled his hair. "Which you are," I added. 

Sora's expressions shot from fear, to confusion, to relief, to his infamous Sora-pout. He sat up, clutching the bag to his chest, and shot the full force of his Sora-pout on me. "I'm not the one that didn't give the supplies to her." 

Shrugging, I stood, dusting off my pants. "She's _your_ girlfriend." 

"She's not my girlfriend!" He turned red though, unable to meet my gaze. 

"Right." I swung easily off the roof and started to walk to the dock, not wanting to look back. 

A thud of shoes behind me made me glance over my shoulder. Sora landed behind me, still holding the bag to his chest, staring at me with an unreadable expression. An emotion I had a hard time identifying. He opened his mouth to say something, but I looked away, continuing on. After a moment, I could hear Sora's feet crunching on the sand, heading away from me. Sure, I had been a little harsh, but... ... 

Hell. There was no 'but.' 

I'll just apologize to him tomorrow. 

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The storm overhead was growing ever stronger, lightning flickering and thunder crashing nearly every minute, causing the sky to glow a mottled purple and grey. Behind him, the swarm of Hearltess grew, a black wave that dogged his steps as he pounded across the bridge. The hissing whispers still filled his ears to the point that he just wanted to scream for silence. 

He tried to focus on the figure before him, on the small slender figure that was staring out at the swirling ocean. 

Something was wrong though. He didn't remember things happening this way. He wasn't the one that was being chased across this bridge, he wasn't the one that was afraid of the darkness... 

Things weren't supposed to happen this way. But then, things weren't supposed to be happening _again._ Was he reliving this moment? Were the Heartless forcing him to alter his memories, to make him believe in this fake reality? 

This was all too real though. No clever illusion could give him the memories he carried in him now, from the past few weeks. Memories that clashed with older memories. He had won that foot race, he remembered. His current memories said he lost. Old memories spoke of no illness, new ones said he had been sick for over a week before recovering. 

Old memories told him that the person he was running to shouldn't be there. 

His eyes told him otherwise. 

The Heartless squealed, condensing into a heavy mass that rose high behind him, swooping forward like a lightless tsunami, and he dived the final few feet off the bridge. Greedy, hungry fingers scraped against his legs, but he crashed safely into the hard ground, rolling onto his back. The black wave slammed into the bridge, dispersing and scattering Heartless into the ocean beneath. 

He pushed himself to his feet, bruised and out of breath. He wished he had a weapon... in his haste to reach the island, he had left behind anything that would've been any use. ... No, he corrected himself, he had nothing that would've been effective. Not against the Heartless. 

Turning, he faced the one before him, unsure of what to do or say. Dull, wild hair was tossed around into an even more unkempt manner by the wind, the black and white short-sleeved jacket billowed easily. Even the wallet chain of crowns jingled lightly. 

As if sensing someone was there, the figure looked over his shoulder, bright blue eyes shining. 

"I was waiting for you," Sora said, smiling. 

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BGM 01: Ordinary World, Duran Duran 

Comments and criticism welcome. 


	3. Synonymy:02

**Title**: Synonymy:02  
**Author name**: Ruaki []  
**Author email**: ruakichan@aol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingd*m Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! @.@

**Author's Note**: Woo. Again, thanks to Aachan, who reread the first segment over and over till we got it to the point where I didn't hate it any more. Yay. She gets pr0n. Pr0n also goes to Chira-sama, who should've been doing homework instead of helping me edit this chapter. 

======================= 

_We know what we are, but know not what we may be. ~**Shakespeare, Hamlet**_

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"I was waiting for you." The wind tossed the words about like a feather, carrying them out to sea. I cringed inwardly at his casual tone. "Now we just have to wait for Kairi." 

Doesn't he realize what was going on? Doesn't he remember? Doesn't he _know_? I took a step forward while staring stupidly, leadened arms raising with fingers outstretched to touch him. Sora had turned to fully face me now, head tilted in a questioning manner while still beaming boyishly. My trembling hands stopped inches from his cheeks, unsure of what to do, before deciding to numbly clamp down on his shoulders. His small frame shook under my strength, and that smile slipped a little. 

"What's wrong?" 

'What's _wrong_, you moron?,' I wanted to yell at him, 'this has already happened! I shouldn't be here! You shouldn't be here! And.. and why aren't you afraid?' My jaw worked, nothing came out. I was frozen by my own inability to comprehend the situation. 

Sora's smile tentatively returned when no negative reply came, grasping my wrists as if trying to encourage me. "The door is open, Riku. Isn't it exciting?" He turned his face to the sky, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "We can visit other worlds now and find something really grand!" 

Something really grand, huh? I squeezed his shoulders, digging fingers through the cloth of his jacket. "Why--" My voice cracked. I couldn't decide if I wanted to yell and swear, shake him and hide, or just hold him close and believe in the power of dreams. So I just tightened my grip, staring at him without blinking as if expecting him to disappear. 

He winced, a soft exclamation of pain escaping him. "R-riku, that hurts...!" He tugged at my wrists and I released him slowly. 

"Aren't you afraid?" I whispered. And what about me? Wasn't I afraid? My heart shivered. 

"Huh?" Large blue orbs, darkened to near indigo by the lack of light, blinked owlishly at me, the anticipation in them hardly diminishing. 

"Afraid of the darkness...," I finished, remembering in another past--another present?--how his eyes had been concerned and frightened when they gazed at me. 

But in that other time, I had been the one to stand where he was now... I was the one to laugh in defiance at my fears. 

**[I'm not afraid of the darkness!]**

Stupid, stupid fool. 

Sora spun around to face the ocean again, hands locked behind his head in a carefree gesture. "Riku, you always told me to face my fears and to stop being such a chicken. Well, I'm not afraid of the darkness." His voice lowered. "Maybe I was once, but if I keep being scared, you'll always be better than me." 

Thunder ripped overhead, once, twice, thrice, punctuated simultaneously by lightning. Hair whipped into my eyes, and I brushed the strands away absent-mindedly as I absorbed what he said. I had said the same thing, and-- 

A faint scream reverberated in the distance. 

"Kairi!" we both shouted, instantaneously leaping into action to race for the bridge as Heartless began to pool at our feet. They had been lying in wait it seemed, waiting for us to leave the haven of the paopu's isle. Another faint scream sounded, and Sora shot ahead of me, leaping over the forming heads of the dark ones, yellow sneakers thudding heavily onto the wooden span. His natural speed and agility aided him greatly as he slipped past the hungry shadow-walkers, crossing the bridge quickly and with little problem. 

"The secret place," I yelled after him, kicking at claws that tried to trip me. He nodded in understanding, still focused ahead while dodging through the palm and banana trees that lined the end of the bridge. I kept my eyes glued on his back, nearly crushing a congealing shadow with my boot as I rushed after him. A sudden chill creeped up my foot as if it had absorbed the shadow's aura. Running quickly became difficult as the numbing cold climbed up my leg, but I doggedly continued to trail behind Sora. The future was known to me, but this present was not; no matter what, I couldn't afford to let Sora out of my sight. 

He had already jumped off the roof of the shanty to land on the path by the waterfall. Just beyond, partially covered by foliage, a pair of elaborately carved, hauntingly familiar doors stood. They had stood wide open in the nightmares of my illness to reveal infinity in all its glory of white and black, and in my waking dreams of a relived past they were firm and shut, while I remained trapped on the other side in a place I could only remember as ZioN. 

Heedless of the Heartless gathering about him, Sora stopped before the portal and turned his head up to me. "Come on, Riku!" 

I nodded dully as I pulled myself up onto the shanty. The entire right side of my body was slowly losing feeling as I shuffled my way down the sloping roof to its edge, peering over. A growing black puddle of Heartless was waiting for me at the bottom, gleaming golden eyes staring at me hungrily. I shivered and hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was some odd metaphor of diving into darkness. Sora shouted again while flailing at the Heartless reaching for him, prompting me into action. Pushing off with my good left leg, I jumped, aiming to land behind the waiting sea of shadows. 

However, my leap was awkward, and I hit the hard dirt path with a stumble, right foot crumpling from the stress. I fell to my hands and knees as the Heartless closed in, swarming me under their dense bodies. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, there was just black all around that reflected no light, like a sky devoid of stars... A hoarse yell involuntarily escaped me as I tried to fight them off, their claws scrabbling at my clothes, skin, and hair, their whispers filling my ears. Pain lanced through the parts of me that could still feel, and I screamed again, reminded of a time in the past when the darkness had consumed me in a similar way, stripping me of dignity and humanity, raping my mind and heart... 

But a firm grip snagged my flailing limbs, dragging me from the circle of Heartless, from the nightmares and waking dreams. I could vaguely hear Sora call my name as I was hauled onto shaky feet and pulled along, away from the frenzied Heartless that continued to feed at nothing. I tried to concentrate on the hand holding my arm, on the white glove with the blue markings, on the tight hold it had. The edges of darkness faded from my mind slowly, and I clung to the reality that was my best friend, my special person. Needles of pain shot through me as I began to regain the feeling in my right side, further testament that I existed here and now, not then and there. I was not in darkness, I was not alone. 

Thanks, Sora, I told him silently and shook off his hand reluctantly, master of myself once more. Glancing behind me, the Heartless had finally realized their prey had escaped and were now hopping toward us. They had such a comedic way of moving, as if they were light as air but heavier than rock. It seemed as if they could fly they would, but something kept them from being free... 

"Riku, hurry!" I snapped my head forward; Sora was pulling apart the great doors slowly, straining under their weight. I rushed forward to help him, grabbing one side as he worked on the other, and together we managed to heave open a crack large enough for us to slip through into the passage beyond. 

The doors swung shut behind us, cutting off the hissing whispers of the Heartless, leaving only a stillness more appropriate for a tomb. Sora's hand sought mine, and I nearly jumped in surprise and shock, before I heard him whisper to himself, "I'm not afraid." 

I bit my lip and squeezed his fingers. What weren't you afraid of, Sora? The darkness, or the future that lay before you? I realized that he didn't carry the knowledge that I did; that for some reason, he was living this story for the first time. I don't know why these memories were inside me and not also in Sora, or probably Kairi, but dammit, I wasn't going to let history repeat itself. 

With this in mind, I plunged forward, Sora quickly falling into step with me. 

The underground tunnel was no longer a place of familiarity to us. We had always imagined that this dark, musty passage led to another world, where we would pretend that we were heroes slaying a great beast and saving the kingdom from destruction. It was a place to escape the outside world, a place of wondrous mysteries and secrets to be found, a place to come and think without distraction. Now it was just evil; a thick, dank smell wafted from the interior, accompanied by a chill that bit straight to the bone. Our breath was loud in the hollow silence, the scuffle of our shoes on the rock echoed dully. 

The heart of this world was decaying and soon all would be lost. Oddly, I felt no sadness. Is this because it had happened already? Or because I really had nothing else to lose but the person beside me and the person we sought? I wondered if my mother even realized I was gone. I wondered if my mother still even existed. 

She had lost her heart long, long ago. 

Faint light flickered at the end of the passage, drawing our attention, and our walk quickened, Sora's hand pulling away as he hurried ahead. 

"Kairi?" he called as soon as he entered the small cave caked with childish drawings. I hurried to his side, and with one roving sweep absorbed the glowing door, the stagnant atmsophere, and the girl in purple and white at the center of it all. The door was throbbing, its wood bending and concaving as if suppressing terrible pressure. 

Kairi turned at Sora's voice, her face pale and drained of energy. Her posture was limp, the exuberant life she was so fond of displaying was gone. She reminded me of my mother then, the same glassy-eyed empty look of a person who had been waiting forever and a day for a dream to become reality. 

She hardly took a step toward Sora, his name falling from her lips weakly, when the pulsating door behind her burst open with tremendous force. 

The erupting energy sent Sora and I staggering back blindly, even as Kairi's small body hurtled forward like a rag doll. Without regard to himself, Sora's arms opened to catch her, pushing against the pressure with as much strength as his small body could muster. And for a moment, I thought he would succeed, but the edges of Kairi's form began to fray as if she was decomposing. At the moment of contact she passed right into him, completely disappearing just as Sora's arms snapped shut like a trap, embracing empty air. 

A detached part of me observed this with a sense of understanding, realizing that Kairi had given her heart to Sora, and Sora had unwittingly accepted it. Another part of me felt the sharp sting of jealousy, realizing the hidden meaning behind such an action, comprehending the sheer level of trust that must exist between the two for such a thing to even take place. The rest of me noticed that the force spilling from the open door was slowly dying into a trickle. 

"Kairi? Kairi?" Sora's face shifted into an expression of confusion as his head whipped around to find our friend. The cave remained stubbornly devoid of anything Kairi. 

"She's not here," I said softly. Or rather, you can't reach her. I wondered what it was like to be inside someone else like that. Could she feel what he felt, experience everything he experienced? Did she talk to him in his dreams? Or was she dead in all but spirit, existing only as a memory, waiting to be reborn? 

He turned to face me, brows furrowing. "What do you mean?" 

I didn't want to tell him. I knew how'd he react, and I knew he'd be quick to sacrifice himself for her. My brain scrambled to find a suitable lie, or at least, a diversion from the truth. 

Abruptly, the earth trembled under our feet, causing fair-sized pebbles and dirt to rain from the ceiling. Sora dove forward to dodge a particularly nasty rock, even as I jumped to the side. It shattered into the ground, sending up dust. I waved a hand in front of my face, coughing a little. 

"Sora?" Brushing dirt from my hair and eyes, I slipped deeper into the cave, looking for him. Another tremor shook the ground, lines crackling along the walls sharply and in jagged, almost artistic, designs that destroyed the graffiti of playful children. This world didn't have much time before it would be drowned in nothing. 

The back of the cave by the door was free from debris, and there was Sora, clothing smudged with dirt and dust, elbows and knees scraped from a fall. His hand was resting on a cracked wall, staring down at the ruined image of something I could barely make out. I walked to him, contemplating the sad expression on his face. 

"Sora? We have to go." I was calm, trying to divert his attention toward me. We weren't going to disappear here. History--or future?--dictated that fact. I believed in it. 

He didn't answer, glancing at me only momentarily before his eyes slid to the open door. I followed his gaze, having almost forgotten about the thing, concerned more about Sora's safety than the gaping wound of this world's heart. The plain wooden door stood wide, rusted hinges nearly half-broken from the force of its opening. Beyond, inside, it was completely black, yet it seemed as white as pristine snow. Light was unable to escape from the void, but at the same time, light also enamanated from within, fluttering to the sound of a faint, irregular heartbeat. 

"What's happening?" Sora asked in a small voice, half turning to me for guidance as he always did when we were younger. "Where's Kairi?" 

Should I tell him despite what I was guessing would occur? I knew what happened to me before, but I couldn't understand what was happening now. Or was before happening now? Or now happened before? Or... 

"I don't know," I said finally, deciding that ambiguity was the better part of ignorance. His face fell at my words though; he trusted me to supply the answers to all his questions even if I had to lie, and for once I didn't have an answer that would please him. I continued on to give him something that at least I was sure of. "But Kairi isn't here. And if we don't go, we won't be able to help her." Cause our home is going to disappear. "We can't let our hearts waver." Or we'll disappear too. 

Sora glanced at the door and the not-light-not-dark void beyond. "I'm not afraid," he whispered, the statement directed either to me, himself, or us both. The quaver in his tone belied otherwise, and while his face was screwed in determination, his eyes brimmed with fear. I wanted to comfort him, reassure him that everything would be fine, but I wasn't too sure myself. 

I held out my hand, beckoning. "Sora." 

He ignored me though, watching the door. "I'm not afraid of the darkness." His voice was stronger now, steadier. 

A deep feeling of dread knotted itself into the pit of my stomach, chasing away most of the cool composure I had drawn about myself despite the chaotic events unfolding around me. Sora was so intent on that door, on the emptiness beyond; did he realize what it really was? His declaration against the darkness would protect him, yet, at the same time, make him easy prey... 

But Ansem was dead. 

Right? 

"Sora," I repeated, urgency rising in my throat. Just in case, I wanted Sora by my side so I could protect him. 

He turned then and smiled; a faltering, nervous little smile that conveyed all his fear and bravado into one confused signal. Blue eyes fell on my outstretched hand, and he hesitantly reached for it. I exhaled in relief, feeling my confidence seep back. 

Our fingertips had hardly brushed when smoky, whip-like tendrils darted from the void behind Sora, rearing over him and thrashing violently. I reacted without thinking, capturing his hand with both of mine even as the ropes of darkness snaked around his body. They stretched taunt, slowly and surely pulling him toward the door. 

Sora's eyes widened, face draining of colour. He squirmed ferociously against the restraints, but the mists simply slithered further around him, tightly binding his limbs and torso while pulling him harder. Panic rising in my throat, I dug my heels into the quivering earth with fists locked around his hand, my muscles straining to keep the darkness from taking my Sora away. My feet scraped over the dirt as we were both dragged toward the nothing. 

The tendrils began to engulf his head, writhing wildly like snakes. He cried out for me, thin voice high with fright as the black filaments caressed his face, gripping it, swallowing it. I gritted my teeth, throwing back my weight, trying with every ounce of strength and will to halt the steady progression into the unknown, trying to pull Sora free. We were now inches away from the precipice, an abyss of warm and cold ready to receive us. My arms burned from extertion and my shoulders shrieked for release, but I stubbornly clung to my best friend. I wasn't worried about my own safety or my own life, I didn't even care if my limbs were ripped from their sockets. Just as long as Sora was safe and sound, far from danger, far from darkness, far from evil, I would gladly give up my very soul. 

After all, I had done it once already, hadn't I? 

But then, suddenly, inexplicably, Sora's fingers unravelled themselves from my grip. Without the extra hold, he slipped from my fists, the darkness jerking him into the portal. I screamed in denial--no, no, no, this can't be happening!--leaping forward to thrust my arms into the black mist surrounding him, despearate to grab onto him, any part of him, just something that I could hold onto... My fingers closed around metal, sharp edges stabbing deep into my palm through leather, and for a moment, the black mists parted to reveal Sora's head, to reveal eyes shaded grey with fear, but also with defiance at death. An arm lifted against the gossamer webs entrapping him, outstretched, reaching for me. 

I moved forward, determined to fall into the unknown with him, believing that as long as we were together, we'd come through. His palm came to rest against my chest, over my thudding heart, and we were connected, pulses running together, thoughts in parallel. His lips moved, and while he made no sound, I could hear him as clearly as if he shouted it from the tallest mountain. 

'Save her.' 

My eyes widened as I understood his intent, but before I could protest, or even act, Sora shoved me backward, the rebound sending him soaring deeper into the void beyond the door. 

A metallic snap was loud in my ears, as loud as my protesting scream, and I fell hard onto my back, skidding along the rock to stop several feet away. I quickly got onto my hands and knees, scrabbling for the door despite the flaring pain that seared through me. 'Sora, Sora, don't go, you can't go, if you go...!' But he smiled at me despite my pleading, helpless expression, a brilliant smile that was brighter than the sun, the type of smile given when one said 'I'll catch ya later.' And soon I couldn't see him any more, the darkness swallowing him again. 

The earth shook, greater than any of the previous tremors, and I was knocked off balance, slamming into the unforgiving ground. The door melted away, the frame warping and deforming, dripping downward like hot wax. Adjacent walls quickly followed suit, crumbling into dust scattered by sudden gusts, revealing a mottled chaos that snarled lightning without sound. The cave floor was now a floating island, spinning in nothingness that stretched from infinity to infinity filled nebulous purple and black clouds that licked bolts of energy and breathed huffs of cold air. My fingers dug into the solid rock under me as the wind picked up, buffeting at my body with invisible fists, determined to send me flying out into the unknown, away from the little piece of my world that remained. I tucked my chin into my chest, eyes squeezed shut, the loss of Sora stinging my soul even as I tried to survive. The breath of darkness continued to assault me, enticing me with violence to just let go, to just descend into the cold, empty void of lost hearts... 

"There is still so very much to learn." The silky baritone rose above the howling wind, and I lifted my head, squinting ahead of me. 

Hazy, blurry. Images shifting, rolling. A swish of white, black. 

A low throb knocked on the back of my skull, steadily growing more and more demanding till it was pounding in staccato, shouting to be let in. I squinted harder at the thing in front of me, thoughts sluggish, dizzy from the ache spreading through my mind. The person? moved, spreading out thin limbs to either side as a black shroud enveloped it, whisking it out of existence. 

I blinked, eyes tearing from staring for so long into the wind. An illusion? A mirage? 

The gale drew back for a moment, giving me a moment's respite before pummeling me with a particularly powerful, steady blast. I clung to my anchor out of sheer stubbornness, uncertain of the future now but knowing that if I failed here, Sora and Kairi would be gone forever. My fingers were cramping in agony, burning from the effort of holding onto the tiny crevasses in the earth. I gritted my teeth, repeating Sora's name over and over to myself, searching for strength in the mantra as my weary arms began to give under the strain. 

A slow sliding scrape by my ear. A quiet jingle over all the cacophony, familiar and comforting. The chant died on my lips. 

I turned my face slightly, looking from the corner of my eye to my left at the glint of metal that waggled in the wind like a toy kite. Lightning played over the tooling of the crown pendant, dangling proudly from the end of a broken chain which was tangled around the stem of a split weed spurting from a crack in the stone. 

The silver twinkled at me like it was giggling. The howl of wind faded from my ears as the laughter of playing children rang from faraway. I stared, hypnotized, at the crown before uncurling deadened fingers to reach for it with my left hand. 

~A crown? That's kind of lame. Why?~  
~Cause I'm king of the islands!~  
~Hey! What does that make me?~  
~Um... ... my servant!~  
~No way! If you're gonna be king, then I'll be.. uh...~  
~My servant!~  
~No! I'll be the best knight ever! No one will be better than me!~ 

Fingertips caressed the metal, closing over it to capture the charm. 

~I'll protect the king!~ 

Warmth flooded me, easing away my pain and relaxing my muscles. My grip loosened by a hair and the gale pounced on me, kicking me upward, sucking me into a vortex that parted the cosmic void above. But I didn't care. Cradling the pendant to my chest, I let myself fall further into the gentle feeling that captured my mind, even as my physical body was tossed higher and higher like a rag doll. I vaguely saw the remaining piece of my world crumble away while someone whispered reassuring words in my ear till my eyes languidly slid shut. 

It was easy to forget things in this soft, protective darkness. It was easy to sleep. 

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The Boy was about his age, maybe a little younger, dressed in simple Islander clothing made for play: a white shirt, bright red shorts, and sandals. Bushy chestnut hair formed a halo around the Boy's head, framing a round face with a pert nose and wide mouth. He bet this Boy was the type of Boy that grandmothers like to pinch and kiss, the type that adults let play in the mud freely and play pranks with little recourse. Not like _his_ type, the type that adults treated like a china doll, pretty and pleasant for display, but too fragile to be let out lest the beauty cracked. 

He watched the Boy inch along the horizontally curved tree trunk from the bridge, frowning. That spot was _his_ spot, and this Boy had invaded his privacy. The other children knew this was his favorite place and that they weren't invited when he was there, but this Boy was obviously New. The New Ones always tried to brave the paopu tree. 

The Boy had stopped when the tree began to wobble under His weight, and was now extending quivering fingers for the luscious, bright yellow, star-shaped fruit that hung from the uppermost branches. His grasp fell a little too short, so pushing Himself up, the Boy straddled the tree, leaning over far enough for fingertips to brush against the flesh of the coveted paopu... But then He slipped, twisting to the side with limbs flailing wildly. Legs locked around the slender trunk of the tree, arms immediately clinging to it afterwards. The Boy huddled close to the bark, chin resting on the wood and panting. It had been a close call which would've landed the Boy into the ocean swirling below. 

Smirking, he shook his head and continued to walk to the small isle, hopping down onto the hot sand. "Hey, You." 

The Boy turned His head to look over His shoulder, and he could see that the Boy's eyes were a very bright blue, like candy. 

Folding his arms over his chest, he sighed, shifting the canvas bag thrown over his shoulder. "Hn, might as well get off there." He stared at the Boy from the corner of an eye. "You'll never get it that way." 

Carefully sitting up, the Boy swiveled to watch him curiously with those large blue orbs. 'No,' he privately decided as he tromped over to the base of the tree, setting his bag onto the trunk. 'Not like candy. Like Mom's sapphire earrings.' 

He shook such thoughts from his head. "Don't look so embarrassed." The Boy jumped at his voice, and immediately looked even more embarrassed than before, shoulders tight and fists pressing against His knees. 

Digging in his bag, he continued. "You're not the first one to try." 

"Really?" The Boy's voice was thin, high-pitched, but not unpleasant. 

"Lots of kids try," he said, pulling out an apple, "but just end up looking stupid." 

The Boy smiled brightly, hands behind His head. "The fruits look really yummy, so I can see why they'd try!" 

Snorting, he pulled himself up onto tree trunk next to the Boy, one leg propped up on the wood, the other dangling freely. He spun the apple on the tip of a finger, wondering if the Boy could be any more dumb. "That's not why they want it." Smug superiority rang in his voice. 

The Boy's hands lowered as His head whipped about to stare incredulously at the other. "Huh? Why not?" 

"How can You _not_ know?" he asked with a disdainful look, catching the spinning fruit nimbly. The Boy didn't answer, instead continuing to stare, falling back into its initial curious expression. 

With a sigh, he toyed with the apple, studying its speckled yellow skin. 'It looks almost like a paopu,' he noted, running bare, slender fingers over the smooth surface. The Boy was watching him, eyes boring into his head. 

"Well," he began, finally, "they say if You share a paopu with someone, You'll be forever stuck with them. Or something like that," he added, rolling his eyes. "The older kids want them so they can be with their 'true love' forever." 

The Boy silently absorbed this, turning His head to transfer His stare to the innocuous yellow starfruit. 

"But anyway." Lifting the apple to his lips, he opened his mouth for that first sweet bite. 

A loud, indistinct roar of some kind of beast ripped through the air, and he paused in mid-bite, eyes wide. The roar sounded again, and he realized it was coming from next to him, so he turned to look. The Boy was clutching His midsection, head bowed, an expression of aching hunger on His drooping face. The rumbling continued and the Boy's face grew ever longer. 

'The Boy's hungry. Should I just eat it anyway or play nice?' Hefting his apple, he weighed his options. Having skipped breakfast, and with dinner so far off, the apple was his only easy sustanance while on the island, and he had no desire to return home just yet. But if nothing else, he could forage for food or chase after fish; he was no stranger to mucking it out in the wild. Still, it was _his_ apple... 

The growl of the Boy's stomach had died to a low grumble, grumpy and discouraged. With a sigh, he held out the apple in front of the Boy's face, who regarded it with a mixed expression of surprise and relief. Slowly, the Boy took the apple, turning to flash the happiest smile at him, eyes softening into a colour like the clear sky above them. 

"Thanks." 

Cheeks tinged with pink and staring stonily ahead, he refused to look at the Boy. He was shocked by his own generousity and tried to think very little of it, instead concentrating on returning his red skin to its normal pale shade. 

The Boy had finished the fruit in record time, and was nibbling on the core when he managed to work enough of the blush away to face Him. "Good?" 

Nodding enthusiastically, the Boy beamed at him, licking sticky fingers and tossing away the remains. "Thank you. I'm Sora." 

'So He's a Sora.' The Boy didn't look like a Sora. "Name's Riku." 

"I'm new here yanno," Sora said, obviously a little nervous.. "To the islands, I mean. My father got a better job here." 

He wasn't really interested in Sora's life story, but he didn't say so, letting the Boy babble while he studied Him. He liked studying people, liked to notice how people would say one thing and do another, liked how two-faced people could get. 

"I've lived here for a while, actually, but I only found out about this place last week. Tidus--do you know him?--invited me down." Sora was speaking a mile a minute, and he could feel a headache coming on as he tried to keep up. "I was supposed to meet him here, yanno, but I got so excited that I came here early without eating breakfast. So I saw this fruit and thought I could get it, but it was really hard! You came and saved Me though! I owe you one." Sora put a hand on his arm, and he glanced down at it, unsure of how to react. He didn't like being touched. Not even Nanna touched him. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to discreetly pass on the hint to the Boy that he didn't want Him touching him. 

Sora remained oblivious, smiling brightly, face shining. "_Do_ you know Tidus? He says he's really good at fighting, so he's going to show Me how. I've never used a sword before, although I always wanted to. But My _mom_ thinks it's stupid." 

'Mom.' His eyes tightened. At least this Boy had a mom who could think. "Yeah, I know Tidus. And he's okay, but a little slow in dodging attacks." 

"Really?" 

He had the Boy's full attention now, and his chest puffed a little, hand on his arm forgotten. "Yeah. But then, I'm the best." And that wasn't just empty bragging; he definitely was the best out of any child that visited the isle, probably cause he came here too much and had little else to do. 

"Wow..." Sora's face filled with admiration. "I wanna be really good too!" 

"You won't be better than me." 

"I bet I can!" 

"Huh." He wasn't convinced of Sora's ability so much as His inability. 

Sora jumped off the tree trunk, landing clumsily. "Just you wait and see, I'll--" 

"So~ra!" Both of them turned toward the bridge, where another boy around their age was standing, waving a stick wildly. "Come on! The others are waiting!" 

"I'm coming!" Sora shouted, waving back, before turning to the one on the trunk. He stuck out His hand. "Thanks for the apple." 

Nose wrinkling at the sticky state of Sora's hand, he took it anyway, gingerly. Sora pumped his arm exuberantly, almost hopping up and down in place. "It was nice meeting you!" 

"Uhn..." Unable to work his hand free from Sora's grip, he let the Boy do as He wished. 

"Let's talk again sometime, okay?" And then the Boy was off, leaving him with his now-sticky hand extended like no one had been there shaking it. Blinking, he watched Sora run up to Tidus, who socked a friendly punch into Sora's shoulder. He watched them go, ears pricking at the sound of their words carried by the wind. 

"Man, sorry that ya had to spend time with grumpy Riku."  
"Naw, I like him, he's really cool!" 

Smiling slightly, he stretched his legs, gazing over the calm seas toward the sky that was the same shade as the Boy's eyes. Despite himself, he found himself looking forward to seeing Sora again. 

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Warm. Moist. 

Said warm, moist thing slithered from the tip of my chin and up to my temple, withdrawing to leave a trail of wetness that pricked under cool air. A groan rolled low in my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut harder, not wanting to wake up or leave my dream. 

Another swipe, hot breath panting in my face. Dog breath. 

My eyes flared open and I sat up quickly in panic, startling the animal that had been licking my face. We stared at each other dumbly, before the dog sat down on its haunches and grinned, tongue lolling out to dangle freely. 

Looking around slowly at the unfamiliar surroundings, a shiver ran down my spine coupled with a sense of vague familiarity. I must be in an alley somewhere, broken crates stacked on either side of me, the tall walls of buildings limiting my view. The sky was dark and only half-filled with stars; it probably wasn't too late in the evening. I was in one of those 'other worlds'... 

At least I was alive. With a sigh, I leaned on the stone wall behind me, propping my arms on my knees. But what about Sora? Did he make it too? I hoped so, but part of me, the half that remembered very clearly my own struggle when this first happened, hoped that he didn't go down the road I did. 

_When this first happened_... what the hell was going on here? 

The dog seemed to notice my agitation, because it padded over to my side and flopped down heavily against me. Its body was long, fur a golden orange. It seemed like some type of retriever or bloodhound, with long black ears and large paws. Expressive eyes studied me for a moment and it sighed, as if unhappy with what it saw there, lifting a leg to scratch at the red collar that adorned its neck. 

Wrinkling my nose, I pushed at the animal slightly, but it just grinned at me again. 

"Go on, go." I wanted to be left alone with my thoughts and this mutt was bothering me. 

Ignoring me, the dog dipped its snout to the ground, sniffing. I guess someone's trash was more important to it than me at this moment. 

Annoyed, I pushed harder. "Get lost!" 

It lifted its head to flash me a triumphant look, a silver chain dangling carefully from its jaws. Sora's pendant! My eyes widened and I grabbed the charm, tugging. "Hey, that's mine!" 

The dog resisted, probably thinking this was some sort of game, as its thin black tail swished back and forth in excitement. I growled low and it growled back playfully, and every pull I made was answered by a light pull of its own. I was too afraid to yank any harder, lest I damage the broken chain further. The dog at least was intelligent enough to be gentle as well, and I could've sworn it was smiling. 

"Give it to me!" If only Sora and Kairi could see me now; I was arguing with a mutt, for crying out loud. They would've never let me live it down. "I said give it!" 

The hound turned its head slightly, one ear twitching, raising, but it was not in response to me. The animal suddenly released the chain--now covered in slobber, lovely--before scampering off to the end of the alley on gangling legs like an overgrown puppy. 

I watched it go with a certain amount of relief and satisfaction, cleaning off as much of the drool as I could with the end of my tattered shirt. The large crown charm seemed to be in rather good condition for what it went through, but the chain was a different story. Many links were missing, and some of the ones remaining were so warped that they wouldn't be of any real use. I polished the crown a little, burnished silver sparkling at me cheerfully. I watched the twinkle for a few moments before putting it in my pants pocket. Then I hesitated. 

Sora would kill me if I lost this. If he's even aliv--no! Don't think like that! 

Pulling out the piece of jewelry again, I examined it and nodded to myself. It would work. The chain was too short now for a necklace, but there was enough left for me to wear it around my wrist. That way I would always know it was there. I carefully pulled some of the large chain links apart with my teeth, trying to ignore the fact that these links might've previously been covered in dog drool. 

As I worked, my mind began to wander, ping-ponging from the situation, to Sora, to the situation, and back to Sora again. 

I had no idea what was going on. I didn't believe this was a dream or an illusion; it was too linear, made too much sense, was too real. Had it been some kind of trick, I would've known, because what was happening now was not what happened before. 

So what exactly _was_ happening now? 

Without a doubt, I was reliving similar events. My last clear memory was of Sora closing the door in my face, leaving me trapped in darkness. My last clear memory said that Sora had defeated Ansem and saved the kingdoms from the Heartless. 

Anything else was hazy, blurry. 

I tried to remember, as I worked the chain back together. My gloves made my fingers too thick and clumsy, so with a curse, I ripped one off and continued tinkering with the chain. 

I could recall something after Sora sealed the door... I was lying in a bed. I squinted, narrowing my mind on that point. It was... my bed. Nanna was there, her hand pressed to my forehead. She was speaking, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. 

Sora was there. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him. Kairi was there also, answering Nanna. 

I bit my lip, pausing. That must've been from the illness. I couldn't remember much about it, other than the horrible nightmares and fevers and chills, as well as whatever anyone told me. Sora had mentioned I had fainted before the onset of it started. 

... did I dream of the _past_ then? Had my previous adventure, my previous betrayal to my friends, all been one of the fever dreams? 

I shook my head violently. No, my memories were in clear sequence. What happened with Ansem happened before the illness. 

Then... why was I here now? 

Sora knew nothing about the Heartless. He had no memory of his own journey--it wasn't even written in his eyes. Kairi, too, had given no signal about anything that happened. The atmosphere on Destiny Island had been not unlike that of before we first left. 

Sora had no memory, Kairi had no memory... 

And I had no memory, at least, up until the moment I saw the Heartless. 

Thinking back on the couple of weeks before the raft's completion, I realized that I didn't know anything about what was going to happen. While a very, very vague sense of deja-vu plagued me about certain things, there was no clear precognition of them in my mind. 

In other words, something had been blocking my memory... 

... did Sora regain his? 

Wrapping the chain around my wrist, I bit down hard on the final link. I lifted my arm to admire my handiwork; the chain no longer had a clasp so I had to make do. It fit rather tight, but that was better than too loose. The important thing was that it remained safe until I saw Sora again. 

Satisfied, I stood up, body protesting and stiff. I brushed off the back of my pants, taking another look around. To my left was a dead end, to my right--the way the dog headed--was a corner silhoutted against bright lights. 

Either way, staying around here wouldn't answer the many questions floating around my head, and I had to find Sora. Whether history was being relived or rewritten or whatever wasn't important to me. I had to find Sora and Kairi, and then we could deal with this problem together. 

I wasn't going to hurt him again. Jealousy, pride, and arrogance came close to destroying the thing most important to me; this time, friendship, hope, and fidelity were going to save it. 

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BGM 02: _Sorrow_, Pink Floyd 

Thank you for all the reviews given so far. Many of you have been very kind in your words, and I appreciate that--it really inspires me to keep forging ahead! ^_^ I'd especially like to thank Tormalyne-sama for taking the time to fully critique the chapters. I hope the flow on this is much more to your satisfaction. 

For those who so desire, I had written a dissertation a while back about Riku, and of course, his relationship with Sora, which reflects a lot of my opinion about those two in this fic. 

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Comments and criticism welcome. 


	4. Synonymy:03

**Title**: Synonymy:03  
**Author name**: Ruaki []  
**Author email**: ruakichan@aol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingd*m Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! @.@

**Author's Note**: This is a long chapter. x.x I apologize, but it's necessary for plot, of which I am a slave to. Again, mucho thanks to Aachan and Cuchi-chan, for sitting through and telling me what's wrong without calling me nasty names. One has assumed that Riku's other keyblade was Oblivion--whether or not you agree, just play along, 'kay? ^^; Uh, oh yah... this chapter is going to be the one that first merits me that PG-13 rating. See, I have this problem with the KH version of Cid, and I decided to fix it here... 

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_Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. ~**Hebrews, 13:2**_

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The town was locked in perpetual twilight, a literal city of endless night. Jaunty, bright glowlamps flickered with the soft hum of electricity, casting long shadows on the immaculate cobblestone streets. The buildings were rustic and cottage-like, but in that quaint sort of fashion that tourists enjoyed posing in pictures with. The people meandering the streets were quiet, keeping to themselves. Sometimes they nodded in greeting to a passer-by: fellow vagrants who lost their homes to the dark menace of the Heartless. 

This place was the crossroads between worlds, a tiny solace which encircled the endless void of the universe. 

Traverse Town. 

I had been here only once before, during a time which my memory could only remember in shades of yellow and grey. I had been seeking Sora with not altogether pure intentions and thus only had the barest familiarity with my current surroundings. Still, I was a little relieved; better here than some other places that came to mind. 

Moving to the top of the stairs, I watched the townsfolk milling about in the forum below while absently searching for a familiar face. Perhaps Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie escaped this time, but I doubted it. Even now it was hard to bring myself to feel any sort of grief or sadness for their loss, as they had always been more of Sora's friends than mine. And, if nothing else, I knew they'd return once the worlds were restored. 

I huffed a puff of air at my bangs and took a step down the stairwell. First things first: I had to find Sora. 

"Get the hell outta my shop, ya bloody thievin' pillow with legs!" From behind, the raucous shout shot through the serene atmosphere like an arrow, and I half-turned in curiosity. 

A ball of white and pink hurtled through the air to slam into my chest, knocking me off balance. Reflexively catching the foreign missile, I struggled to keep my equilibrium as I teetered on the brink of the step. The world spun wildly for several neverending seconds, and I closed my eyes so I wouldn't get dizzy, hopping recklessly to land somewhat ungracefully on the top landing of the stairs. 

"Hey kid, that yer pet?" The man squinted down at me; his grizzled and unshaven face seemed suited for someone who ate rocks every morning because he liked it--and it seemed very familiar. My brain was slow to click before it suddenly hit me in a flash: this man had been one of the people I saw with Sora previously, in the time I had lost. 

His loud voice echoed through the area, and people turned to see what all the commotion was about. I could feel blood rushing to my face, as if I was still ten years old and had gotten caught with my hand in Nanna's cookie jar again. 

I immediately held out the shivering ball of fur as a defensive shield. "This isn't mine," I weakly reassured him. It uncurled itself into the tiny, chubby form of a creature I've only encountered once or twice. The moogle wiggled its pink nose at me, squinting eyes downturned in an expression of fear and sadness. The white, stuffed animal-like body squirmed out of my hands to immediately attach itself to the front of my dirty shirt as if it had always belonged there. Embarrassed, I tried to pry the moogle off, but it held fast with tiny claws. 

The shopkeep just snorted, adjusting the goggles that held back bristled yellow hair with a dismissing gesture. "Yer lucky I'm in a good mood today." Pushing open a door underneath a bright yellow neon sign that proclaimed 'Accessories' in assertive print, I could hear him mutter, "Kids these days," as he disappeared inside, slamming the door shut. 

I jumped at the boom, staring helplessly at the door. What a jerk. I didn't even do anything wrong! 

With a sigh, I glanced down at the unwanted accessory that made itself part of my wardrobe. The moogle's heart was fluttering rapidly in its chest like a bird trying to escape, beating against my ribcage with tiny punches. I patted the thing on the head reassuringly, out of lack of anything better to do, and its antenna with ball attachment quivered violently. Geez, it must've been really scared. 

Still, I didn't want anything to do with it, not if it kept me on the bad side of someone I knew had been an associate of my missing Sora in the past. Or the future. Whatever. Either way, this cranky geezer might have an idea on where I could find him. 

After some difficulty and swearing, I managed to get the moogle off my shirt, stooping over to set it on the ground. It gazed at me in hurt, short stubby arms upraised in a demand to be held. 

Despite its cuteness, I remained resolute; I've had a lot of practice against the combined forces of cuteness from Sora and Kairi, after all. "No." The antenna on its head drooped and it gazed at the ground, kicking at the stones like a scolded child. A wave of sympathy passed over me, but only just for a moment; I shook it off and walked toward the 'Accessory' shop. 

The doors opened with a slight creak, bright light from inside flooding the dim duskiness around me. I blinked rapidly and stepped in, the doors swinging shut behind me on their squeaky hinges. 

"Welco--oh hell, it's the kid again." 

The cantankerous man was standing behind a long counter to my left, polishing a studded necklace with a soft cloth. He affixed me with a dark scowl which stated I was not welcome here, and if I persisted in staying, he'd make it so I wouldn't be able to come back. But I refused to be intimidated, drawing myself up with as much coolness and dignity as I could muster in my current, tattered state. 

"Hi." ... wow, just brilliant. Beautiful. My dazzling ability to make conversation seemed to be in full swing tonight. 

The shopkeeper snorted again, walking around from behind the counter to place the jewelry in an empty spot in the glass case that lined the back wall. 

"I was wondering if you might know the whereabouts of my friend," I said slowly, stepping further into the store. 

"What makes ya think I'd know where the hell yer flamin' mate is?" he growled, pulling a rag from his wide belt and buffing the front of the glass case. 

"I just thought that maybe he might've come through here." Lame, lame, lame, the guy wasn't even listening. "You know him! He's dark-haired and a little shorter than me..." I trailed off when the old geezer turned, squinting at me. His eyes, which had been painted with irritability earlier, were now webbed with jaded weariness. 

Exhaling through his nose, he removed a beaten pack of cigarettes from the band of his goggles, tapping the bottom of it against a big, meaty palm. "Look, kid, no offense or anythin', but lots of bloody folk come through here. Everyone in this hole has lost their home to the gawdforsaken Heartless one way or 'other." He paused to remove a cigarette from the pack, sticking it in his mouth. "I can't remember every soddin' vagrant that comes into my---_gawddammit_, I thought I told ya to keep yer blasted pet outta here!" 

I blinked at his sudden change of tone and was about to investigate the cause of his newfound irritation when a heavy weight clamped down to the top of my head. A cry of surprise escaped me, my hands flying up to grab frantically at the foreign object. The white furry face of the moogle dropped upside-down into my vision, large pink nose wriggling with fervent happiness. 

Scowling, I pulled the moogle off my head, holding it with distaste. "It really isn't mine." 

The moogle squirmed at my words, chirping in protest. The old man just cocked an eyebrow at us both as he pulled a box of matches from his belt. 

"I swear, it's not mine," I insisted. "They don't even have these on my world!" Er, or didn't. My world was gone. Again. Heh, I should remember by now to think in the past tense when I talked about Destiny Island. 

The moogle wormed out of my grip and zipped through the air to possessively attach itself to my face again. With cheerful yelps of 'kupo,' it crawled around my head and shoulders, evading my frantic efforts to be rid of it. This was getting way too embarrassing. 

The old man just lit his cigarette in amusement, folding hairy arms over his chest. "The bloody thing likes ya well enough, I say." 

"I don't know why! I didn't even do anything!" Snagging its arm triumphantly, I jerked the moogle off me and shook it a little. "If I wanted a pet, I'd get a dog or something!" I brought it up to eye level, glaring. 

A hurt and betrayed expression crossed its toylike features, and it sniffed, looking down. The pom-pom drooped. 

Aw, hell... I shifted my grip on it, cradling it to my chest. The moogle squawked, hugging me with those stubby arms. Damn, it was cute. Guess I wasn't so invulnerable to attacks of cute as I thought I was. 

"Moogles are weird like that." The old man breathed out a chimney of smoke. "Spirits of nature and all that shite." I wondered what he meant by that, but he didn't elaborate, instead walking back behind the counter. "Anyway, ya might as well leave. I dun think I can help ya." 

"At least, can you tell me if anyone unfamiliar has passed through here?" I was getting desperate for some kind of lead. If Sora wasn't on this world, I had no idea how I'd be able to get to the other ones. 

"Besides ya? Hell no." And then he hesitated, chewing on the end of the cigarette, thinking. "Well, I had a yammerin' duck and a doofy dog come through lookin' for someone. But that's it." 

Duck and dog? Could they be the same duo that had served as Sora's companions previously? 

"Who are they looking for?" I pressed in an excited tone that I couldn't stifle. "Was it Sora?" 

He glared at me, an expression I've begun to associate as his normal face. "It's none of yer damn business, but it ain't about no soddin' 'Sora'." 

Disappointment filled me. Despite being one of Sora's former associates, this grandpa had no recollection of who Sora was... and Sora had not sought him out either... I was at a dead end, with no idea where to go. 

The shopkeeper must've caught my helpless look because he softened a fraction of a hair. "Look kid, why dun ya look around the town? If yer friend's here, someone's damn well bound to have seen 'im." 

Hardly encouraging. I mumbled something that could have passed for gratitude, allowing the moogle to crawl out of my arms and onto my shoulder. I was suddenly very tired, and I had a hard time drudging up the confidence to continue my search. The darkness probably already had him. What was the point? It felt like I was carrying a mountain through an impossible desert, in search of a mirage that never existed. 

My stomach grumbled loudly in discontent, and I pressed a hand to it with an inaudible sigh. Right, carrying a mountain through a desert to find a mirage all the while on an empty stomach. I sighed quietly again, turning to go. 

"Hey kid," the old man called, removing the cigarette stub from his lips, "yanno, if I spot 'im, I'll tell him yer lookin', yah?" I nodded mechanically. "But yanno, before ya go, how 'bout some grub?" 

I paused, glancing at him. "What?" 

A little hint of a scowl creased his thick brow. "Ya better not be implyin' that I stutter, brat." 

"No," I snapped defensively, wondering if this guy ever had a good day. "I want to know why you're suddenly helping me?" 

"Why the hell not?" He crushed the cherry of his smoke into an ashtray on the counter before resting his arms on the long surface. "Maybe ya remind me of someone." He shrugged. "Maybe I feel like it." 

I stared at him, at a loss for words. He stared back in a 'well?' fashion, sucking on his teeth noisily. Minutes passed as we waited for the other to make the first move. I didn't want his help... or, at least, admit that I would like to take him up on his offer. I've always been independent--minus Sora, my only crutch--and it would hurt my pride severely to ask or accept help from a stranger. 

In the end, it was my stomach that made the first move, rumbling louder than anything I've ever heard, even from Sora's infamously talkative belly. I flushed, wrapping my arms tightly around my torso and lowering my head so that my hair could hide my red face. The old man laughed. 

"Sit," he ordered and I found little reason not to obey. Lowering myself gingerly to the dull grey couch in front of the glass cases, I watched the old man pull various foodstuffs from under the counter. 

The moogle hopped off my shoulder to bounce into my lap, peering around succintly. Finding that it wasn't going to be punted from the store any time soon, it made itself comfortable on my knee, smoothing the fur on its belly. 

I prodded it in the back with a finger. "Hey, you." 

It flashed me a questioning look. 

"Don't get familiar. I don't want you following me around." 

The large magenta ball upon its head quavered in a pout. A thin, high voice pried into my brain, resonating clearly as if spoken in an empty room. '_Mogki likes boy._' It patted my knee affectionately. 

I jumped in surprise, spilling the moogle onto the sofa's cushions. Rolling to a stop on its back, it blinked in dizziness at me. '_Why for boy look upset with Mogki?_' 

"You talk?" I was surprised; I thought the extent of these creatures pretty much ended at warbling 'kupo' and looking cute. But they talked--in human tongue no less--and with telepathy! 

It sat up and shook its head, ears flicking. '_Should Mogki not?_' 

"Uh... that is..." I couldn't help but be a little flustered--I didn't realize this thing had some sort of higher intelligence. I just assumed it was like any other normal animal I'd known back home. 

A plate slammed down on the table in front of me. "Just dun bloody steal anythin', ya pygmy reject." 

My gaze shot from the moogle up to the old man. He was scowled, as usual, at the creature, and leaned across me to shake a finger under its large nose. 

"Cause me any soddin' grief and I'll put my boot up yer midget ass, ya hear?" The threat was low, even. The moogle nodded timidly. I felt like defending the small thing, but then the old man passed his scowl onto me. I had a feeling the moogle was not the only one the threat was aimed at. So I said nothing, staring back with a blank face. 

Satisfied, the old man crashed down next to me, leaning back with a sigh and seeking another cigarette. "Ya gonna eat or wait for hell to freeze over, kid?" 

"My name isn't 'kid', gramps," I retorted a little crossly, reaching for the plate. A quick examination revealed its single occupant to be a sandwich. Further examination stated it to be of the peanut butter and jelly sort. Not one of my favorite meals, but my stomach had no particular complaints right now other than I wasn't feeding it quick enough. "It's Riku," I said as I took a bite. 

He rapped a knuckle against the side of my head. "And my name ain't freakin' 'gramps', _kid_. It be Cid, and ya better damn well respect it." 

I muttered an apology around a mouthful of bread, more or less concentrating on making the sandwich disappear. 

"Shite, kids these days..." Cid pushed a cigarette between his lips, lighting it. Acrid smoke curled in the air. 

The moogle on the other side of me whuffed, both paws covering its giant nose. '_Bad stick._' Cid glared at it from around me and it wisely quieted. Instead, it crawled to my side, watching me eat with rapt fascination. I slowed my bites, eyeballing it. 

The moogle didn't say anything, but a hopeful look slid onto its face. I sighed; intelligent creature or not, it shared the same begging expression animals got when they wanted food. Tearing off a bit of sandwich, I offered it to the moogle. 

'_Mogki say thanks!_' The telepathic message rang with joy as it snatched the morsel, devouring it with its tiny mouth. 

"Eh, feed one and ya got a blasted friend for life," Cid commented dryly, blowing smoke rings. 

"I guess that isn't a bad thing..." The moogle beamed at me. 

"If ya like thievin' sons of bitches, yah." 

The moogle bounced up and down indignantly. '_Mogki not thief! Mogki help kith synthesize!_' 

Cid rolled his eyes, sucking in a long drag. 

I offered the moogle another bit of my sandwich as a distraction. "Is that your name? Mogki?" 

The moogle possessively grabbed the gooey piece, nodding. '_Mogki is Mogki. Boy is Ri-kupo, yes no?_' It nibbled on the bread like a hamster. 

"Well, actually, it's Riku." 

'_Ri-kupo._' 

"Riku." 

'_That is what Mogki said. Ri-kupo._' 

I shook my head. "No, it's Riku. Ri-ku. With a 'ku' and no 'po.'" 

'_Ri-ku... po?_' 

"Nevermind." I smiled a little anyway, polishing off the sandwich and dusting crumbs off my fingers over the plate. I was still hungry, but at least this assauged the grumblings in my belly. 

Standing up to leave, I faced Cid and nodded at him. "Thanks." 

He scrutinzed me before leaning over to put out his cigarette on the plate, thus effectively blocking my path. "Sit down." 

I hesitated, but did as he ordered. 

He got up and meandered over to a large fireplace in the corner, throwing wood and tinder into the cold ashes inside. I watched him go through the motions of striking a fire, absently allowing Mogki to crawl back into my lap. What did the old geezer want now? 

"Jeezus, it's as bloody cold as a witch's teat in here." Cid warmed his hands by the dancing fire. "Lemme tell ya kid, dun ever get old. The blood thins and all that rot." 

"The alternative isn't any better." 

Cid smirked to himself. "Not a bad way to think, if it helped ya escape those frickin' heart eaters." 

I didn't reply. 

Once the fire was in full swing, Cid returned to the couch, fishing for another smoke. He lit it, breathing in deeply. I listened to the fireplace pop and crackle, thinking about what I should do next. Obviously, I had to find Sora. I could only hope he'd be in Traverse Town. But what if he wasn't? I had landed in Traverse Town this time... that could mean that Sora might be in Hollow Bastion. 

Argh, I was thinking in circles... 

"Yer friend, what's his name again?" 

Caught off guard by Cid's abrupt question, I answered quickly, "Sora." 

"Huh." Cid rolled the tobacco stick between his fingers, monitoring how the hot ash burned the paper. "What makes ya think he's even freakin' alive, kiddo?" 

"I just do." 

He studied me for a long time. I met his eyes with quiet conviction, refusing to back down. I knew Sora was alive. Without a single doubt in my mind. And I didn't care if this old man thought I was stupid or naive for believing in it without definite proof. No one knew better than I about the strength in Sora's heart. 

Suddenly, Cid laughed, inhaling smoke. "Shite, dun think I'd meet _another_ one of those damn hero types. Two was enough, but bloody hell..." He snorted, shaking his head and standing again. Roughly ruffling my hair, he flashed me a crooked grin. "Why dun ya rest for a bit, kid? I'll order us some bloody _real_ food and maybe some blasted coffee. Ya can tell me yer sob story, and I'll see if I can be any help." 

I smoothed my hair, fingers getting caught in tangles, and frowned. Hero? Me? I was no hero. "Is this sudden need to help me because I remind you of someone?" That came out more biting than I intended. But no matter, I didn't like being compared to someone I didn't even know. 

Cid glowered at me over his shoulder, twin streams of smoke passing through his nostrils, giving him the appearance of a disgruntled dragon. 

"Ever catch a star, kid?" 

"No." What kind of foolish question was that? My frown deepened. 

"Yanno, sometimes ya meet a person and they have this _aura_. An aura that draws folks to 'em, whether they like it or not, like night-bugs to light." 

"So you're saying I'm like that?" 

Cid guffawed, hooking his thumbs into his belt and rocking on his heels. "Hell no, kid! Yer as repulsive as every other annoying git that passes through here." 

My lip curled, but I held my tongue. No need to state the obvious. 

"Heh, just sayin' that some folk are like that. Like stars." He strolled to the front of the counter, reaching behind it. "Burning with light that can be seen from zillions of freakin' miles away. And things gravitate to them, orbit around them." 

Then he shrugged, pulling forth a paper menu. "But that's just old man talk. Pay it no mind. Now, how do ya like yer steak? Still mooin' or like a hockey puck?" 

+++++++++s+o+m+e+h+o+w++i++r+e+m+e+m+b+e+r+++++++++ 

The morning rose clear and bright, the pure azure sky spotted with fluffy, white clouds strolling lazily through heaven's field. The sound of surf was muffled and muted under the screeching of children and seafowl alike. Even the water had a magical, glorious tint to it; a sparkling, perfect mix of blue and green and the slightest hint of purple, reflecting the sun in a dazzling array of light. 

He slid down the sides of the ladder quickly, eager to be out on such a promising day. As always, he had gotten up to watch the sunrise, and today's display did not fail to impress him; the dawn had framed the sea and distant isles with orange fingers, caressing faraway dreams with red kisses. Landing on the ground with a thud, he straightened and inhaled the fresh, clean sea air that wafted through the open windows of the spacious villa. 

It was so quiet. The window drapes billowed from the breeze, but little else moved. He paused, listening for the sound of Nanna toddling about in the kitchen or hanging the laundry in the yard to dry, but only the flapping curtains and the far cackling of seagulls met his ears. 

Figuring that Nanna had gone to the market for groceries, he skipped into the kitchen, shoes smacking on the wooden floor. A quick search of the drawers yielded paper and ink, to which he scribbled a quick note saying he was going out. Nanna tended to be overprotective sometimes and the two butted heads frequently over the issue of his freedom. Eventually, they managed a compromise: she wouldn't try to curb his wayward wanderings as long as he informed her of his whereabouts. 

Humming to himself, he pinned the note to a board kept by the fridge for such purposes, making sure that it was clear and easily seen. He didn't plan on being back till late tonight, and he didn't want Nanna to panic. 

Just one more thing to do... 

With squared shoulders and a deep breath, he marched into the large living room, with its white-washed furniture, potted ferns, and colorful, handmade rugs. Sunlight streamed in through the skylight, delicately flitting over small statuaries, hanging portraits, and a child's artwork. In the back, still and silent, his mother was curled up in a window seat which faced the outward bound sea. The light failed to illuminate her profile, creating a dark mass of shadows in that corner of the room. Suppressing a shiver, he willed himself to continue on with slow, silent steps. 

A shawl had been wrapped around her shoulders--Nanna's work, he guessed--and her long pale arms rested like dead snakes on upraised knees. The dark print dress was stark against her near-translucent skin, its lightweight fabric falling in loose folds about her and spilling to the floor. His legs came to an automatic stop a few feet away, unable to bring himself closer to this spectre that haunted the window seat. 

"'Morning, Mom." His voice cracked weakly. It had become harder and harder to talk to her as she became more and more distant. Her pale green eyes were serene in their emptiness, forever staring out at the empty sea, eternally waiting. He wished they would, just once, look at him again like how they used to--with warmth and love and joy. 

"I made this new Friend, you know." She never had given any indication that she heard his words, but he always tried anyway. "He's a lot of fun to be with." Wisps of her pale hair, which Nanna had pinned up today, swayed in the breeze, tickling her cheeks. His gaze focused on them, on the way they danced, remembering the times his mother would spend hours combing his own hair while exclaiming on how luxurious it was, how soft and silky it was. She wanted him to grow it long, not in the scruffy, wild fashion that was popular with the Islander boys, but something elegant and graceful. He continued to let it hang long, but it looked more shaggy than elegant since he rarely took extra care of it; Nanna said he now looked like a 'hoodlum.' 

The breeze stopped playing with his mother's hair to find something more interesting, and he continued. "Nanna's excited that I have a real Friend now." He hesitated. "She wants to meet Him." 

No response. He bit his lip. 

"But I don't want Him to come here." 

Nanna had understood and didn't press the subject further. He wondered if his mother understood. 

If she cared. 

His fists clenched and unclenched reflexively, the silence between them growing deeper and thicker till it was a veil that separated the two. The couple of feet between them became an abyss hundreds of miles wide and hundreds long, impassable without a leap of faith toward neverending unknown. He could almost see the rift growing larger and wider, the wall thicker and higher. His mother lay on the other side, on her tiny island with its tiny window that watched a lonely ocean devoid of hope. 

Bitter tears choked him, but he refused to give them release, too proud and stubborn to admit any weakness. Ever since his father disappeared at sea several years ago, his mother had shut the world out, nursing her grief and loneliness until it consumed her... It had been okay at first, as his mother leeched onto him as an anchor to keep from drowning in her misery, but gradually, day by day, she would drift to the window to stare at the sparkling water, waiting and waiting... 

He took care of her at first, a tiny child who had only wanted to see his mother smile again. He couldn't understand it, his mother's closeting of her heart, and he still wasn't able to. He had accepted his father's death a long time ago, a man he could only remember as a great wolf, but why couldn't his mother accept it? Why did she have to ignore what was left of her family? And despite his anger, his sense of abandonment, he took care of her. Nanna had come later, the sister of his father, a thin stick of a woman that was neither warm nor cold, a woman that he tried to love as a substitute but found that his own heart lay hidden in a box somewhere deep in his soul. Nanna took care of them now, his mother and him, and she tried hard to make the sense of family appear in the household again. 

But he couldn't stand being in this place which radiated the stench of his broken dreams. 

The silence only continued. 

Fresh resentment suddenly replaced the old. He resented his father for dying and he resented his mother for letting her heart sink in the sea with him. He resented Nanna for trying so hard to make things seem normal, when they clearly weren't. He resented the people around them, with their pitying stares and their whispers behind their hands. 

He resented himself for feeling this way. He wanted to lash out, to strike something, hurt something, to make something cry the tears he couldn't bring himself to ever shed. 

"The old man's never coming back, Mom," he said in a low voice, fingernails biting into his palms. Eyes like emeralds narrowed, darkening. "Why would he, coming back to a dead thing like you?" 

His mother had no reaction to his hurtful words and the wind tousled her hair again. A fly weaved in through the open shutters and landed on her mouth, hopping about on its thin legs, curiously exploring the dry skin of her face. She didn't even bother to swat it away. 

Hot anger coursed through him, surging forth to push him over the invisible chasm that separated them and to climb onto the window seat. He grabbed her limp shoulders, pulling her about to face him, and he shook her with as much violence as his slender body could muster. "And someday, I'm going to leave you like he did! Leave you alone! And you know what? I'll never, ever, _ever_ look back." 

Her eyes never blinked, staring at him like he was a stranger. And then she struck him. 

Pain sparked into his brain from his cheek, and he could only gaze stupidly at her upraised hand. He sat back hard, his hands sliding off her shoulders to plop uselessly into his lap. Sudden shame filled him at his behavior and he looked away, chastised. Thousands of words scrambled through his mind, chaining and locking together in an incoherent mess of feelings, but he couldn't give voice to any of them. 

After a moment, his mother simply turned back to the window, back to the sea, back to waiting for the day his father would return. 

His cheek burned from the slap, but it was the rebuke to his heart that hurt the most. He loved her, right? How could he say such spiteful things to his mother, to someone he loved? He still loved her. 

But did he still need her? Did it matter any more? 

Mouth working, he managed to croak out a quiet apology that was neither accepted nor rejected. Then he got up, shoes squeaking on the floor. 

"I'm going out." He kept his back to her. "I left Nanna a note but.. I thought maybe you'd like to know." 

The same familiar silence drowned his words. He bolted for the door. 

How could his mother do such things to him, to someone she loved? 

Did she still need him? Did he matter any more? 

He ran out into the bright sunlight that no longer warmed him, seeking comfort in the objectivity of strangers. The wide streets of the village were already teeming with people, everyone wanting to be out to enjoy the lovely day. Carts laden with fruit or fish lined the smooth dirt paths, dogs and children alike ran underfoot of matronly women gossiping in tightly-knit groups. Dodging his way through the crowd, he found himself deterring from his usual route to where his dinghy lay hidden, instead plunging deeper into the heart of the village to emerge on the other side of the shore. 

The houses here were more smaller and quaint, but carried a lot more personality than his neighborhood, slouching along the coast in a disorganized array. He had never been here before, but he knew this was where Sora lived. 

He hesitated. Sora had invited him last night to have brunch with His family the following morning, but he had refused. They were to meet at the treehouse on the isle later, but it was still too early for that. Sora was probably at the table with His family right now, and he didn't want to show up uninvited. 

Yet his feet began to move of their own accord, one foot placed in front of the other in smooth rhythm as they carried him down the beach. He didn't even know which one was Sora's. What was he even doing here? 

His feet ended their journey at the last house in the row, a house with a low sloping roof and many windows. The siding of the house suffered much damage from the salty air, but it only added to the aged charm of the building, about which everything seemed haphazard in a perfectly normal way. 

Resting arms on the driftwood fence that clumsily marked the border of the yard, his eyes beelined from the house to the Reason he stopped at this particular place, for a Boy about his age was practicing swordplay in front of it, hopping and lunging about with a sturdy wooden sword. 

The sun warmed his cold body. 

Sora continued to prance about unawares, fiercely attacking an innocent post from all sides. This was entertaining for a few moments, before his more experienced eye caught holes in all of Sora's defenses, and he felt the need to say something before He severely embarrassed Himself. 

"Hey." 

Sora dropped His sword in surprise, whirling around. "Rikuuu!" He seemed pleasantly surprised to find His friend there, running up to the fence with a wide smile on His face. "I thought you didn't want to come." 

"I was just in the area," he shrugged. 

Sora snickered, snagging both of the other boy's hands in His, swinging them. "Well, you're just in time for the food." 

He stared down at their entwined hands but said nothing. He had learned that Sora was the touchy-feely sort and eventually had stopped trying to get the Boy to realize that he had an aversion to being touched so casually all the time. It wasn't unpleasant anyway, he had to admit, and he had found himself growing to like these little connections he had with his Friend. 

"Come and meet Mom!" Hands still enjoined, Sora led him around the fence to the house with its many windows, most opened to let in the salty morning breeze. 

"Y-your mom?" This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. He always carried an enormous jealousy toward the other boys when he saw them with their mothers; he had a hard time keeping friends because the jealousy and envy made him push the other boys away. He didn't want to lose Sora yet, not when he was having so much fun. 

Even so, here he was, being pushed feet first through the doorway and hallway and what was probably a den, barely able to catch a good glimpse of the rooms before they stopped in a sunny kitchen, coloured in washed whites and blues. A short woman stood at a long counter, efficiently carving fruit into bunnies. 

Sora's head popped up over his shoulder, a big grin spread from ear to ear. "Hey, Mom, Riku's here!" 

The woman turned and he suddenly became shy. 

"Why, hullo! Aren't you a cute little thing?" Sora's mother gushed. Sora snickered behind him and a rush of blood flooded his cheeks. 

Despite his embarrassment, he remembered his manners and stuck out a hand to the woman. "Nice to meet you," he answered in his best voice. He didn't want Sora's mom to hate him. 

Sora's mom took his hand with gusto, shaking it firmly. "And so polite!" She smiled and he found himself liking it. It was Sora's smile. He studied her more closely to see if she bore any other resemblence to his Friend. 

She was short and plump, with Sora's round, open face. The same upturned nose and wide mouth and pink skin. Her hair was Sora's colour as well, frizzled and pulled back into a severe bun that did little to actually hold the strands in place, as they pointed every which way. Crows feet lined her dark eyes--he was glad Sora didn't inherit her eye colour--but her energy seemed as boundless as Sora's, thus making it hard to gauge her age. 

She was so different from his own mother. Even before his mother's mind sank into the sea with his father, her face never sparkled like this. Like she was so content with life. 

Sora's mother blinked under his scrutiny. "What's wrong, darling? Is there something on my face?" 

"Yeah," Sora chirped. "Your nose!" Two hands from two different people smacked Him playfully up each side of His head. "Ow!" 

"The food's still got some time to mellow out, boys, so go on, scat!" She shooed them out of the kitchen. "Why don't You see if Riku can help You find the floor to Your room, Sora?" 

Blinking, he glanced at Sora in confusion. "Find the floor?" 

Sora glomped onto his arm suddenly, pulling him deeper into His home. "Uh, yeah, Mom always complains about My room. That's one of her hints. But hey, do you wanna see it?" The Boy's blue eyes shone, and he found himself too charmed to refuse. 

The bedroom lay on the far side of the house, at the end of a white hallway spotted with many family portraits. Glancing at them as the two passed, he noted many pictures of a baby Sora, some others of Sora's mom at a younger age, and a few of a tall, gangly man with unkempt hair and a solemn, older version of Sora's eyes. He guessed that this man was probably Sora's father. He wondered if Sora's dad was anything like Sora too. 

"And here it is," Sora announced grandly as they stopped before a door marked by handmade 'Keep Out' and 'Offishil Buzyness Only' signs. "Um, it's a little messy like Mom said," He added with a sheepish grin. "But I think George--he's the monster under the bed--is still sleeping, so we should be okay." 

Raising a brow at Sora, he didn't bother replying and turned to enter the room. 

Or at least tried to. Hurricane Sora had obviously hit this place hard, cause except for the bare space allowed for clearance of the door, the room was wall-to-wall junk. Clothes, toys, and colouring books covered the ground. The furniture, in disarray as it stood, were piled high with sundry items; it seemed only the bed escaped the chaos, although its covers were rumpled into mishappen piles that suffocated the pillows. If things started to crawl or move, he wouldn't have been shocked at all. 

Sora remained undaunted by the vision of pandemonium before them, stepping inside while carelessly kicking aside His stuff to clear a path. "I keep forgetting to clean it." 

"How could You forget?" he exclaimed, cautiously entering and following the Boy. 

"I rather play than clean My room." A pouting expression crossed Sora's face and set up camp there. 

With a foot, he poked at an item that seemed to be in the process of growing intelligent life. "Well, maybe if You cleaned it, Your room might be cool." 

Sora stuck out His tongue at His friend, plopping heavily down on the bed. "I bet _your_ room is worse than Mine!" 

"Actually, it's very clean." He wrinkled his nose and sat down next to Sora. He could feel the other Boy's heat and unconsciously scooted closer. 

"I bet your mom makes you, huh?" 

He shrugged noncommittally and moved to change the subject. "Your mom's pretty cool." 

"She's okay," Sora replied, picking lint off His shorts. "She likes being mothery." He snickered a little at His own lame joke and lifted His eyes to His friend. "What about your mom?" 

"What about her?" 

"Is she cool?" 

Another noncommittal shrug. 

Sora poked him in the shoulder. "Riku and his secrets. You like being mysterious, I just know it." 

"It's not on purpose." 

"I know," Sora forgave him, shooting him a bright smile. He received a small smile in return. "Oh yeah! Check out this view!" Sora gestured to the window behind them. 

Perfectly framed inside the square space, floating in a plain of turquoise capped with white, lay a familiar island. 

"Hey, that's our island." 

Sora grinned, proud of Himself. "Isn't that neat? I chose this room cause of the view." The Boy flopped back and rolled over onto His stomach, propping His chin in His palms to gaze out dreamily. "I used to wonder what was there... you know, before I met Tidus and stuff." 

"Do You like it here?" He knew the answer, he had asked before. But he liked being reassured about Sora's happiness. 

"Yah! I mean, I lived on another part of Destiny Island before we came here, but I definitely like here better." 

He listened to Sora ramble on, watching how the Boy's face become so animated when He spoke. Everything about Sora was geniuine, and it fascinated him to no end. He liked to watch Sora's expressions and gestures, how they conveyed things so honestly and openly. He never knew anyone like that, never knew anyone that had a complete lack of fear of Himself. A few days ago, he had decided to finally accept Sora as a friend, but now, he knew he could settle no less on becoming Sora's favorite companion. Because he knew that Sora would never, ever betray him, like how his mother did. 

"--and of course, everyone is _so_ awesome here! Except you. You're a dork." Sora laughed just as He was trounced upon by His smirking friend. 

The two wrestled, giggling and rolling wildly over the mattress, blankets tangling around their flailing limbs. Finally, he managed to pin Sora down by the shoulders, both heaving for breath and looking as jumbled as the bedroom. 

"I win." He grinned triumphantly. "Who's the dork now?" 

Sora made a face at him, squirming. "I'll beat you someday, Riku!" 

"You wish." He released Him, but not before digging a knuckle into the side of Sora's skull. 

"Boys! Soup's on!" Sora's mother's voice floated into the room, catching both their attention. 

Sora sat up, rubbing His head. "Coming!" He shot a full-force pout on His friend. "I _will_ beat you," He declared dramatically, shaking a fist indignantly. 

Still grinning, he stood, straightening his clothes and hair. "I'll wait for You." 

The indignantion melted off Sora's face, replaced by something which made His eyes glow. "Really?" 

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged, wondering at this new expression decorating Sora's features. "Good things come to those who wait, or something like that." 

Sora leapt to His feet, hand extended with pinky curled out. "Pinky-swear?" 

His brows furrowed, but he took Sora's pinky in his slowly. He nodded. 

"It's a promise then," Sora said, a brilliantly shining smile spreading His lips wide. 

Blushing faintly, he stared at their conjoined fingers. "Yeah," he mumbled. "A promise. I'll wait." 

+++++++++t+h+e++l+o+v+e++t+h+a+t++g+a+z+e+d++u+p+o+n++m+e+++++++++ 

I awoke to soft darkness, dimly disspelled by the night lighting of the display cases which lined the back wall. It was silent, minus the hum of electricity and the chirping snores of Mogki, who remained steadfastly curled in my lap. A wool blanket covered us both. The shop was empty. What had happened? I had been talking with Cid for quite some time after our meal, before my eyes had begun to feel heavy... 

Damn, I fell asleep. 

"Cid? Are you here?" My voice was swallowed by the quiet. Did he go home or something? 

Pushing off the blanket, I slowly set aside the moogle and eased myself off the couch as carefully as possible. I had no desire to awaken the creature who had taken such a liking to me; I had a feeling that it would want to follow me no matter where I went, and I had no intention of letting it tag along. 

After all, I couldn't stay here. I had foolishly allowed myself to grow comfortable, falling under the spell of being in a place that felt like an escape from the long road ahead of me. Who knows how many hours I had lost because of my carelessness? I had to find Sora, the sooner, the better. Every minute I wasted simply pulled him further and further away from me. If he delved deep into the darkness, not even the brightest sun could light the path to him. 

Stalking to the door, I found it curiously unlocked. My brows rose, but I guess crime wasn't an issue in a town of people who had no where else to go. Or maybe Cid had stepped out for a moment and would return shortly. Either way, I wouldn't be here. I was a little sorry that I couldn't thank him for his kindness, no matter how grudgingly it had been given, but he'd probably blow it off anyway. He seemed to be that sort of man, someone who gave just because he could and because it was what he considered right. Being thanked for doing what he wanted to do was probably redundant to him. 

Sora had been lucky to have had his help. I smiled a little, entering the deep night. 

Traverse Town was deathly still. No one roamed the streets at this hour, when wisps of fog flitted along the rocks and the stars seemed their coldest. The artificial warmth provided by colourful neon signs and iron-wrought glowlamps smoked near invisible clouds of steam that cast a fuzzy haze over the clear night. Long shadows danced atop the old fashioned buildings and somewhere, paper rustled on the ground, violently kicked by the night breeze. 

I shivered despite myself. Ghostly laughter touched my ears, sibilant whispers slithered into my head. The peaceful atmosphere which had blanketed the town was now displaced by something sinister, something not unlike the stench of foreboding and despair which had heralded my home's destruction. 

Heartless were afoot, somewhere. Close. 

A light-hearted tinkling of metal explosively shattered the eerie stillness; I jumped with a silent cry at the loudness of it, pressing myself up against the door of the shop behind me and frantically looking around for the source of this foreign, misplaced noise. A shadow whisked around the corner to my left, the jangle trailing after it like a puppy. It was such a cheerful, happy sound. A familiar, well-loved sound. I could almost see the tropical sun flickering off the string of metal crowns that hung from his belt, the chain that would jingle whenever he moved. 

The pendant chained to my wrist grew heavy as my heart quickened. 

Sora. 

My legs burst into movement, carrying me deeper into the oppressive night after the phantom sound. Moving quickly, the sound was always just a little too far away, no matter how fast I ran. It twisted and turned around buildings and alleyways, up over stairs and through barricades, till I no longer had any clue of where I was. I wanted to call out, to ask it to stop, but my tongue was locked in the roof of my mouth, by fear, by apprehension, by the certainty that this had to be a dream. 

And then I lost the sound. 

I skidded to a halt on a central street that terminated in front of a fountain and mural. Here, too, the area was silent and dead, purple and yellow lights splashing evil, leering faces on store windows and sidewalks. 

I listened. 

Nothing. The silence was deafening. 

And then, low whispers. Hisses. Incoherent, mad babblings. 

The ground bubbled, black pooling around my feet. With a cry, I jumped back, landing on the edge of the fountain. Thick masses of definitive shadows rose, armoured and bearing a crossed black heart on their chests. Heartless. Ansem's Heartless. Too late, I realized I had fallen into a trap, unable to escape and weaponless. 

I ran to the right and a wave of Heartless soldiers rose to meet me; jerking around to backtrack, I found opposition to my left as well. Cold yellow eyes loomed all about me and mindless susurrations shredded the night air. I fell back into the fountain behind me, kicking at ragged claws sprouting from the murky water. Scrambling to the side with my back pressed to the wall, I searched desperately for some break in their forces, some weak point to exploit as an avenue of escape. I tried to keep a cool head, but it was difficult; fear was a tiny, hard ball inside my gut, threatening to explode any moment and infuse my body with its poison. To die at the hands of a Heartless was the worst sort of death, losing the very thing that made a person human and turning into an empty, scavenging shell of nothing, with no desire or hope or thought... 

But as I came to realize that no escape lay ahead of me, a solid grip clamped down on my shoulder from above. I shouted in surprise, clawing at the iron hold, before I was jerked off my feet and pulled up over the wall above. The Heartless' eyes gave way to flashing neons, and I landed painfully on my back, the air knocked out of me. 

"Hey, kid, ya okay?" My dazed gaze focused fuzzily on Cid's squinting face. 

Relief coursed through me and I managed a shaky but confident grin. I could've kissed him--what great timing. "Heart's still beating, old man." 

He frowned, but helped me up with one hand; the other clutched a long lance edged with a dangerous three-pronged spearhead. I stared at it openly with curiousity as I never would've guessed the old geezer was a fighter. But then again, his rugged features and barrel shoulders couldn't have come from selling pretty pieces of jewelry to tottering, rich ladies. 

"What the hell were ya bloody well thinkin', boy?" Cid hissed at me, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the Heartless in the central street below. I didn't bother to reply, knowing how foolish or insane I would've sounded, but instead followed his gaze. With their prey lost, the Heartless had begun slowly moving, fanning outward like a puddle and climbing atop each other to get over the walls to our left and right. 

Cid growled, shoving me roughly to a huge set of double doors, the barriers between the districts of Traverse Town. "Let's get movin'." He didn't have to tell me twice. 

As we dashed for the doors, the Heartless suddenly surged forward, a giant tidal wave in a sea of black, jumping like thousands of fleas onto the upper roads, a hairsbreadth behind us. They landed silently, rasping whispers echoing thunderously over the quiet stones. And like great insects, they scampered after us, cold yellow eyes flickering with the edge of a great hunger. 

Cid pushed me again and I stumbled, slamming facefirst into the unyielding wood of the portal. I swayed dizzily as spots of white swam in my vision and the metallic tinge of blood stained my tongue from a busted lip. 

The old man skidded to a stop behind me, grabbing my collar and shaking me hard. "Stop messin' around, ya soddin' punk!" His handling only brought forth a pounding headache, but I managed to regain my bearings, jerking away to glare at him the best I could. 

"You're the one that flung me into the door!" 

"And this ain't the time to be frickin' arguin'!" He elbowed me aside to hurl open the doors, yanking me through after him. 

Outstretched claws grasped at my legs, tearing the material, and the front ranks rose up to swell through the open portal. Cid smirked at them and slammed the doors shut in their faces. Furious scratching could be heard from the other side. 

"How do ya like that, huh, ya damn hellspawn?" he yelled at the door, leaning on his spear as he dug a cigarette out of the pack nestled in his goggles band. The old man stuck it in his mouth, chewing on the end, looking rather proud of himself. 

A terrible hissing rebounded along the buildings in reply, laced with righteous anger. I fell back a little, looking around nervously. 

"Hey, Cid..." 

He smirked at me, snubbing his nose with a thumb. "What, ya scared, kid? A bloody 'fraidy cat? " He nodded at the door. "They ain't comin' through here." 

"Why not?" I touched my split lip; the pain had dulled to a faint throb, blood already drying. 

"Cause I frickin' say so!" And he laughed. 

I smiled wryly, shaking my head. Cid was such a strange guy. 

"Come on." Hefting his polearm over his shoulder, he patted me on the back as he passed by. "I've had enough of these blasted Heartless for one night. I ain't young anymore, yanno. This chill hurts my bones, dammit." 

The wind had indeed picked up an icy touch, not unlike the numbing cold the Heartless carried. I shuddered. I remembered reading a story once about a crimson mist that rode the currents, an invisible death in search of blood. A single brush would drain a victim, leaving nothing behind but a dry shell. This wind eerily reminded me of that, and I caught myself looking around once more as if to reassure myself that no monster was after me. 

"Stop being paranoid," I mumbled to myself, moving to follow Cid. 

_Clink._ That thin tintinnabulation tinkled with each progressive step as if I were being followed. I stopped and looked behind me, only to be greeted by emptiness. Was I imagining things again? 

"Hey, hurry yer ass up, kid!" Cid called. 

Casting one more suspicious glance behind me, I hurried after Cid. 

"Where were you before, anyway?" I asked when I caught up with him, trotting by his side. 

"Out," came the vague reply. "Why were ya out at this freakin' hour anyway?" Even though he asked the question, his pale eyes held a knowing look. 

I frowned uncomfortably under his gaze, my tongue playing with the cut in my lip. There wasn't much I could say to justify my actions; it was reckless to run out blindly and unarmed, but I hadn't been thinking anyway. Just wildly chasing a ghost, struggling to catch and hold onto some part of him... 

"Yer were gonna try to find yer friend, eh? And ya just couldn't wait until bloody morn." He wasn't harsh or accusing. 

Still, I took it as such, defensive gears churning. Running ahead down the incline, I stopped before a dead end in the road to face him. "You don't know how important it is to find him." That's right, it was very important. I nodded in agreement with myself. 

Cid's eyes sharpened, chips of ice in his craggy face. "I'd say that everyone's got someone that's pretty damn important--" 

"That's not it!" I interrupted. "I have to find him so I can atone for..." I hesitated, trailed off. Was that why I was so eager to find him? Saving him and Kingdom Hearts just to absolve my own mistakes and save myself? True, I was worried about Sora... but as much as I hated to admit it, he was a stonger person than I. While I hardly doubted the power of darkness, I knew that Sora was greater. He's proven his ability to beat back obstacles repeatedly... and he'd already won against Ansem and the Heartless before. 

Still, he was a Keyblade Master. The Keeper of the Kingdom, as Maleficent liked to call him, the One who wielded the Key of Worlds. He had been the one to stop Ansem, will be the one to save the day again. But if he was trapped in darkness, how was he going to do it? 

'**Help me.**' 

My head snapped up. "Did you hear that?" 

Cid walked by, fumbling for a box of matches in his belt. "Just the frickin' Heartless moaning. Ya hear it all the gawddamn time during these bloody hours." 

'**Help me.**' 

"No, it sounded like..."  
_clink_  
"Like..."  
_clink_  
I turned. 

A Heartless soldier slammed into me like a ferocious animal, eyes gleaming triumphantly. It's red talons dug deep into my skin, draining heat and spreading dull cold through me. We grappled wildly, stumbling on the cobblestones, before it tore itself away from me with a stream of red blood. I screamed, clutching the gaping wound in my shoulder, and staggered back to fall against a stack of crates that littered the empty corner. The creature landed smoothly with a hiss. It wavered for a moment before stalking forward, dragging its long arms on the ground, and then leapt at me, eyes flaring. 

Starlight flashed off gleaming, colourful steel arcing through the air, highlighting the three-pronged blade that shattered the Heartless into a burst of black sparks. A crystalline heart, pulsating to some unheard heartbeat, floated toward the sky with the shriek of a being released from a long captivity. 

Cid stepped toward me, lowering his spear. "Jeezus, that's twice I saved yer puny ass tonight." 

My throat worked, staring above him. "L-look out!" 

A rain of Heartless plummeted from the tops of the walls and buildings surrounding us, blanketing Cid in a cloud of shadow. Pushing myself forward, I plunged my hands into the cloud, grasping at anything I could and flinging aside Heartless left and right. My wounded shoulder burned in agony, my fingers were frozen stiff, and my arms were lethargic from the cold, but I managed to uncover Cid's head, relieved that he wasn't dead. 

In fact, the old man was grinning widely, with the bent cigarette clenched between his bared teeth. I fell back in surprise as fire ignited in his eyes, and with a loud roar, he shook off the remaining Heartless clinging to his body, spinning the polearm in a dazzling display of skill and agility. Freed hearts soared to the stars in droves. 

"Ya want my bloody heart? Huh? Huh? Then ya frickin' come and get it, ya flamin' sacks of dog spit!" He raised his weapon and shook it at them. 

In a disorganized array, the Heartless took up his challenge. The lance flicked and whorled, fending off enemies at every break. Cid's skill was near immaculate, a precise blend of offense and defense found only in a seasoned fighter. 

I could only watch helplessly, realizing that if I attempted to help him, I'd probably only get in his way. Not that I could do much anyway. My wound was still gushing blood freely and my hands were slack with numbness. I tried to make myself as small a target as possible, away from the gnashing blade and the charging Heartless, but my presence was simply not to be ignored. The soldiers constantly darted around Cid to grasp at me, but his deadly spear would twist and rend them asunder. 

Sweat began to bead on Cid's forehead as exhaustion flagged his limbs. He grunted as a single Heartless slipped through his near-perfect defenses to leech onto his right leg, clawing deep. Cid quickly disposed of it, but the poisonous cold emitted from the Heartless had already crippled the limb. And for all of his obvious skill and experience, the sheer numbers of the Heartless made even a slight disadvantage a great one. Frustration gripped me; I looked around frantically for any way to help him. 

"Get the hell outta here, kid." Cid's voice was grim, steeled with concentration and determination. 

"Wh-what?" I was completely taken aback. I couldn't just leave him here! No matter what anyone might think of me now, I wasn't that cold-blooded. If nothing else, I was in his debt--I never let my debts go unfulfilled. 

Cid was already steadily clearing a path through the soldiers toward the open road behind them. "Get to my shop! Ain't none of these frickin' heart-raiders there!" 

"I can't leave you--" 

He flung aside a shadow, sparing a moment to shoot me a deadly, commanding glare. "They're drawn to ya, ya dumbass! I'll be fine once yer gone, now _go_!" The authority in his voice forced me to move, else I had the feeling he'd cleave me in two himself. 

I made one last ditch effort to protest. "What makes you think your shop is safe?" I might've been useless, even a hindrance, but I didn't want to leave him. 

"Cause I frickin' say so!" 

It was enough for me to believe him, in that infalliable confidence that everything would be okay in the end, that trademark Sora confidence. The type of confidence that blared 'trust me' in brilliant fireworks across an empty night sky. 

I ran. 

Heartless reached for me, but Cid kept them at bay, growling insults and obscenities. I almost tripped as I swerved around the corner, stray Heartless which slipped by Cid's spear hot on my heels. 

Where was I? I was running blindly in a panic, clutching my bleeding shoulder, losing track of where I was or where I was going. I just went in whichever direction was free from darkspawn, the buildings looming around me like great giants with empty black eyes. My breath was harsh in my ears, a counterbeat to the sibilations emitting from the pursuing Heartless. Where was the damn accessory shop? Logic and reason were walled behind a haze of distress and pain, and everywhere there seemed to be an enemy. Cid's goading and catcalls were faint behind me as he tried to draw the Heartless to him. 

If only I had a weapon! Souleater, Oblivion, anything! I felt weak and helpless, a model damsel in distress, and it infuriated me. I was running like a chicken without a head, panicking because I didn't want to die before I found Sora. I was acting like a child, a stupid child, a mama's boy. I lost that part of me a long time ago--I was stronger than that, I made myself stronger than that! Why was I afraid? I survived this far with nothing but myself. Heartless weren't going to keep me from finding Sora. 

My conviction burned away the haze in my mind, clearing my surroundings. The shop's familiar neon lit the night with a friendly glow behind me; I had shot right past the storefront and into the square below during my crazed panic. 

A blur of white rocketed across my path before criss-crossing back and gluing itself to my head, blinding me. I quickly pried the moogle off, freeing my vision. 

'_Ri-kupo, Ri-kupo!_' Mogki sounded absolutely elated to see me. '_Shadowwalkers everywhere!_' It floated up next to me, tiny wings aflutter as it hovered in a nervous bob. '_Ri-kupo must escape. Shadowwalkers seek Ri-kupo._' And it obviously felt I wasn't moving fast enough, cause it snagged my hands in its shapeless paws, pulling me to the shop. 

I didn't need the urging though. The buzzing of Heartless was gradually gaining volume behind us, and the feeling of being watched by apathetic eyes raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I broke into a mad rush for the store's door atop the stairs which seemed so far away. 

A nebulous cloud of violets and black swarmed at the bottom of the stairwell, condensing into a huge, rotund Heartless. I skidded to a halt several yards away, highly aware of the Heartless gathering around me but unsure of how to continue. This new Heartless, a large-body, blocked the entire landing. There was no way to get to the shop except through it. I could probably draw it away and dash around it, but the soldiers had us entrapped in their tightening circle; they'd catch me before I could make it to safety. 

Mogki flew circles around me in agitation, probably aware of our situation. It was chirping loudly in its native tongue as if warning the enemy, the pom-pom topping its head quivering wildly. The moogle circled higher and higher till it was hovering over me, halting suddenly while glaring fiercely at the Heartless. The soldiers drew back momentarily and the large-body just gazed stupidly at us, scratching its small head. 

The breeze puffed and the whispers of the Heartless dampened. Mogki drew himself up and nodded its head, bursting into a flurry of movement, twirling and kicking in midair, flailing its stubby arms with wild abandon. Chimes of distant music pricked my ears, a haunting melody carried along by the sudden breeze to the tune of the moogle's movements. Eddies of wind swirled around my legs, curling along like long fingers seeking prey. The Heartless stepped back further, shuffling uncertainly as they simultaneously lifted their faces into the searching air. 

Mogki abruptly halted its odd spin with a victorious chirp, and the wind suddenly gusted, blades of air streaking through space to explosively, impressively render the Heartless soldiers into pieces all at once in a matter of milliseconds. One moment, there had been masses of shadow, and the next, there were clouds of glittering hearts ascending to heaven. 

The moogle nodded smugly to itself, dusting off its paws. It descended, turning to me for approval, and I could only stare at it with a dumbfounded expression. I never would've guessed that kind of power would exist in such a little guy. It had just wiped out about thirty Heartless with a goofy dance! 

Mogki patted my cheek, as if forgiving me for underestimating it, before facing the large-body. The large-body was gazing down at its enormous pot-belly, running a massive palm over it as if puzzled by an itch there. 

'_Shadowwalker resisted Mogki's wind song. Shadowwalker powerful._' 

The large-body crooked its head at us curiously, as if debating we were prey or just part of the landscape. This gave it an almost dog-like appearance; it could've almost been called cute had it not belonged to a creature that, while lacking in intelligence, was certainly not something to take lightly. The giant form stiffened as it decided that it was hungry for our hearts, lifting its arms to beat them on its round chest. Empty yellow eyes followed our every movement, intensely focused and unwavering. It was going to attack. 

"Mogki," I hissed, tensing, knees bending slightly, ready to spring away. "Right when it charges, get out of the way and go around it. If we can just reach the store..." .. then what? Cid had said the store was safe, but really, logically that wouldn't be true... would it? 

The moogle nodded though. '_If Ri-kupo makes it to safety..._' Its brow crinkled. '_Mogki help Ri-kupo to safety._' 

I stared at Mogki incredulously. "What are you--" 

'_Now!_' The large-body charged at us, short legs thundering over the stones and arms windmilling crazily. Mogki swerved to ram into me, hurling me aside, before back-flipping into a dizzying pirouette right in the large-body's path. 

I hit the ground hard, skidding on rough cobble-work. Using the momentum from the fall, I managed to roll over my shoulders and head to slide to a halt on my hands and knees, bruised, scratched, with new pain flaring in my previous wound, but otherwise safe. Mogki, however, still continued to twirl in midair, tilting this way and that, despite the danger raging toward it. Another ghostly tune slithered into the empty forum, summoned by this new dance, bouncing over buildings and alleys to the beat of a deep drum. The earth groaned in discontent as Mogki became a blur of white, and the drums beat faster, faster, faster as the large-body rushed ever closer. 

The earth shook under the Heartless, rocks creaking and snapping, but it paid the spell no mind, a long arm snapping out to enclose the ball of spinning moogle in its giant fist. The music screeched to a halt and the earth silenced. 

I reacted without thinking, launching myself at my enemy, arm drawn back to strike it. While the little moogle annoyed me at times, I felt a need to protect it because I had always played the guardian. I was the strong one. I was the older one. I was the wise one. I was the knight in shining armor. 

My blow bounced off the rubber-like belly of the Heartless, and too late I saw how completely foolish my action had been. I had moved without thinking, without remembering that normal blows didn't affect this particular Heartless. The large-body dropped its attention onto me, yellow eyes unblinking. I backed away, mind twisting down complicated roads of logic and reason on how to win in this bleak situation. 

Mogki, who no longer held any interest to the Heartless, was flung aside with incredible force, smacking into rock with a sickening splat. I cringed, rage churning my stomach, but couldn't run to help for the Heartless then pounced, arms swinging wildly in an effort to snag me even as my feet worked in an effort to get away. 

A glancing punch caught me in my wounded shoulder, jolting me to a stop. Blazing white sparks seared through me to rupture in my brain, and I blanked out in agony for a second. And that second was all the Heartless needed to wrap its vise-like grip around my torso, lifting me high off the ground till we were face to face. Its chill was all consuming, burning hot from its freezing coldness. I choked on a cry of pain, kicking and clawing as I struggled to free myself. 

The sursurrations of the Heartless, dead before, began again; a low murmur swelling in drive. The large-body hefted me higher, till I could easily see the cold, uncaring stars. Its fingers clenched and the bones of my ribs ground together, crushing against my lungs. A dry heave shook my body as I ached for air as each breath became more precious than the last. Black spots swam in my vision, blanketing the lights in the sky. 

Sora... 

'**Help me.**' 

He was atop the stairs, shoulders slumped but head raised, that famously unkempt hair matted like mangy fur. Clothing hung in tatters from bared scarlet-stained limbs that bore vicious black wounds pulsating with his life's rhythm. The Key of Worlds was limply clutched in loose fingers, the blade notched and cracked. He was watching me, blue eyes lustrous in the field of red that was his torn face. 

'**Riku.**' 

I didn't know I had shrieked in fury until the fading ring of it touched my senses; my struggles renewed with intense savagery, as if I could rip apart this dull-witted monster keeping me from my Sora with my bare hands. The Heartless just looked at me dumbly, neither amused or angered by my actions, simply observing the way it was squeezing the life out of me. 

Sora fell to his knees, the keyblade slipping from his fingers to crash silently to the ground. Puddles of shadow collected behind him, gelling into the detested shape of Heartless. 

'**Help me.**' 

"Sor--" The large-body tightened its hold and I wheezed, breath rattling in my lungs. Gasping and sucking in what air I could, I tried to beat off the iron grip with one hand, while the other reached for Sora in futility, as if no distance separated us. Dark clouds now tunneled my vision as I strived to maintain consciousness, acutely aware of the new sharp pain seething in my chest as the Heartless closed in on Sora. 

"S-Sora..." The name escaped me weakly. "Ru...n..." It was too much to say any more. Agony ripped at me with razor claws from within my heart when I realized I couldn't save him. Again. Helpless, always helpless. I could pretend to be cool and smart and strong, but they were lies, all lies. I couldn't help him, I couldn't save him. His eyes were still locked on me, so full of trust and the hope that I'll be able to give him the support he needed. But I was no guardian. I had betrayed him before and now I was betraying him again. I was unfit to be a guardian. 

The first Heartless had reached him and ensnared his head. Sora's eyes remained affixed to me, sparkling gems that I always enjoyed appraising. But I closed my eyes; I couldn't look at them now. You shouldn't look at me like that, Sora. Don't look at me like that. I'm not... I can't... I couldn't before, now, or later... 

[_I'll protect the king!_] 

Metal scratched my palm and fingers curled to absently capture it. Sharp edges and flat curves pressed against folds of skin, heated alloy burned through leather. Breath slid out of a faraway body. I couldn't feel anything now but that single point of heat searing into my hand. I was dead, my heart gone. I failed. No redemption this time. 

'**Help me.**' 

I just wanted your forgiveness, Sora. 

Liquid fire seared up my right arm like a bolt of lightning, arcing straight into my chest and up into my brain. My eyes flared open, narrowing in the blinding luminescence of infinite darkness emitting from my fist. The sheer brilliance of it turned night into day and washed all colour from everything around us, painting the world white. My heart began to pound in a frenzy, smashing itself against my ribs as it trying to burst from my chest. I doubled over the confused large-body's hand, writhing in agony. Sora's pendant, clenched in my right palm, trembled and shifted and morphed as streaks of flame and stars swirled around my arm. The black-white light contracted and condensed around the elongated object sprouting from out of my fist to mingle with the fire and stars, while Sora's laughter swelled in my ears. 

The display of pyrotechnics imploded with a burst of colourless sparks, night falling swiftly like a slammed door. Starlight and neons flickered off the iridescent shell of the keyblade I now held in my right hand, running along smooth curves and sharp surfaces that reeked of sheer virtuous will. Sora's pendant dangled jauntily at the end, winking at me. 

He was still laughing. '**Let's kick some Heartless butt.**' 

The large-body gaped, and a shudder shook its massive frame. Was it scared? Slowly, I smirked and spun the weapon, neatly slicing off the arm that had been attempting to end my life. 

The limb burst into bits of sparkling dust and violet embers as I landed smoothly on the ground, swinging the keyblade to sweep the Heartless off its feet. Helplessness gave way to strength, fear to courage. I had been a Keyblade Master. I gripped the keyblade in both hands, which despite its unfamiliar design, had an altogether familiar weight. I ignored the stinging pain in my shoulder. I ignored my own fatigue. I'm still a Keyblade Master. 

I wasn't going to take this shit lying down. 

Something inside me agreed. 

The large-body, unable to feel pain, just shook its head woozily and then swooped its other arm at me. I leapt up and alighted with perfect balance on the outstretched arm. The keyblade thrummed with anticipation, resonating the warmth flooding my heart. As I brought down the weapon to crush the Heartless' tiny head, for a moment I could feel the deep, overwhelming heartbeat of this world. A sense of humility stabbed me, that I and all my selfish desires were nothing to the grand scale which this world lived and breathed, but at the same time, a sense of affinity for it touched me... 

The empathy was shattered a moment later as the large-body dissipated into hundreds of black globules surrounding a crystal heart. It hovered there for a moment, as if unsure on what to do with its newfound freedom, before fluttering into the sky like a newborn butterfly. 

I whirled quickly around, hastily searching for Sora and the Heartless stalking him, praying that I wasn't too late. ... oddly though, the streets were empty, devoid of either darkspawn or my best friend. Frowning, I dropped my gaze to the keyblade. It was not the Key of Heart. 

It bore an uncanny resemblence to Oblivion, although the blade was no longer ebony but a shining pearl that reflected light in a way that made it seem afire. One of the batwing carvings at the hilt had been retooled to be feathered, a robust angel wing that curved with kindness and mercy. Delicate gold filigree upswept along one side of the weapon, softening the harsh, deadly look that characterized my former keyblade. And the black crown, once a mockery of something precious, was now the real thing, a rough piece of ornamentation that seemed so out of place on so elegant a weapon. But it was perfect to have Sora's crown charm serving as the keychain that defined this keyblade's existence... 

Because this wasn't Oblivion, a keyblade of untold power and destruction. This was... was... 

'**Absolution.**' 

I turned quietly and Sora smiled at me, unharmed, with his hands in his pockets and his hood pulled over his hair. 

"Hey, kid!" The call behind me was raucuous, scratchy. I refused to look, staring silently at my friend, flood after flood of emotion numbing me like a Heartless' touch. 

"Kid, er... ah, hell, whatever yer bloody name is!" Cid's boots thunked on rock. 

"Sora," I exhaled, letting the name slide from my lungs. I reached for him with a trembling hand. My heart boomed. 

"Yo, kid! Ya bloody all right? Say somethin'!" Cid's arm clamped down on my head. 

I whirled around, jerking away. "Can't you see I'm--," I turned back to Sora, "--trying to... talk..." I trailed off. Sora was not there. 

A tall young man with lighter blue eyes and a scar marring his face stood there instead. 

I lifted my eyes, finding it hard to keep the hostility out of them. Cid shifted behind me, mumbling incoherently to himself. 

"They'll follow you everywhere." The newcomer's voice was cool and measured. His eyes never blinked, intense in their hawkish stare. A sword with an odd hilt rested idly against one shoulder, the bright silver blade reflecting light off the sharp planes of the young man's cheeks. "Even if you run, they'll find you. As long as you have that keyblade." 

My fingers tightened around the hilt of Absolution, a grim smile crossing my lips. "Guess you're gonna take it from me, huh?" My body was weary and my shoulder throbbed, but I raised the weapon in a swift motion, trails of black-white sparks drifting in the air, and dropped into a defensive crouch. "Sorry. I'm holding this for someone." 

The stranger lowered his weapon before him in a stance that mirrored mine. "I see. Guess it can't be helped." 

And he charged. 

+++++++++a+s++i++b+e+g+a+n++t+o++w+a+l+k++a+l+o+n+e++f+o+r++t+h+e++f+i+r+s+t++t+i+m+e+++++++++ 

BGM 03: _Pure Soul_, GLAY 

For those interested, an illustration of Absolution can be found here: 

**valhalla.morethanart.org/syn**

Again, thank you for all the _very_ heartening reviews. (::stabs tenses in the back when they're not looking::) I hope this chapter didn't drag too much, and for those of you awaiting RikuSora goodies, that should be coming... sometime... ... Honest. Hey now, don't walk away! ^^; 

Comments and criticism welcome, as always. 


	5. Synonymy:04

**Title**: Synonymy:04  
**Author name**: Ruaki [valhalla.morethanart.org]  
**Author email**: ruakichan@aol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingd*m Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! @.@

**Author's Note**: I'm so sorry for the huge delay! This story isn't dead, I swear, but I went through a huge hiatus in many things and I'm only now getting back online. If you want the full details behind my many-month foray, check the bottom author notes where I valiantly try to come up with an excuse to defend myself with. ^_^;; Again, much thanks to Aachan for beta-ing; my other beta is MIA so I apologize for any rough spots that one might encounter... and I'm of the absolute firm conviction that Riku's eyes are green, as they're green on my TV. So.. bah! lol... 

And this chapter is pretty short compared to the other ones, but it's all exposition and we definitely don't want to drag _that_, lol... 

======================= 

_No, we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. ~**Oscar Wilde [Lady Windermere's Fan]**_

+++++++++i+'+m++p+l+a+y+i+n+g++m+y++r+o+l+e++i+n++h+i+s+t+o+r+y+++++++++ 

The sea of flat green undulated and swirled, waving square arms at me in an overly hyper greeting. Viridescent maws gaped wide to swallow me whole, swishing me down whorling depths of sickly bile and grassy foam. My entire being was flushed down the proverbial and very green drain. 

Holy shit, I shouldn't have opened my eyes. 

Quickly, I shut them again and the emerald ocean fell away into colourless nothing. It was easier to think without that spinning green mass dedicating its existence to making me sick. 

"Oooh, I think he's awake!" A chipper female voice sliced through my dark nothing, illiciting a groan from me. Shrill and sharp, it was something I didn't need or want right now. 

"Wakey, wakey, cutie pie!" Hands lightly slapped me on the cheeks. I groaned again, flailing blindly at the intrusion, my body creaking in soreness but welcoming the stretch. 

"Ow! What a grouch!" 

'_Mogki try!_' 

Mogki? I cautiously opened one eye, half-expecting that hideous ocean of sage to swallow me whole again. 

A moment passed as I tried to process what this new mountain of pink and white against the veridian sea was. It shifted, blurred, and then focused with startling clarity. I screamed. 

Mogki screamed in return, breaking our face to face contact with a quick dart under the covers. I tackled the lump in the blankets, poking and prodding. Giggles erupted from the moogle and I grinned, relieved to see it alive and doing fine. 

"Guess moogles don't die easily, huh?" I pried it out from the covers and it nuzzled my cheek affectionately with crooning chirps. 

"And _I_ guess you're feeling better, huh?" It was that coy female voice. I scowled, gaze falling on the other occupant in the room, a long-legged, widely grinning young woman. 

I opened my mouth to shoot back some smart reply but stopped. Actually, I _was_ feeling better; the stab in my shoulder, the cut in my lip, my bruises, bumps, and headache had all disappeared, leaving behind only the faintest echo of ever existing. The strange woman smirked at me knowingly. 

"Where am I?" I decided to ask her instead. "Who are you? Where's Cid?" A sudden rush of panic seized me. "Where's the keyblade?" 

She held out her hands placatingly. "Calm down, calm down. It's all under control. Man, Squall must've hit you harder than we thought. You pissed him right on off, you know?" 

I scowled again as sudden recollection informed me of my rather humiliating defeat at the hands of that scar-faced pretty boy. I could've won--_should've_ won--as I had that Scarface on defensive the entire time, but then Cid, that bastard, tripped me. 

[Nothin' personal, kid.] 

"Hey, hey, you could get some serious wrinkles lookin' like that!" The girl whacked me on the back, and I instinctively flinched, glaring at her. It bounced off her hyper exterior though. "Now, now, you're all healed up and we're away from the Heartless, so all's well ends well!" 

I continued to glare at her and she continued to deflect it. "Betcha just dying to know who this gorgeous beauty in front of you is, eh?" She twirled and flashed me a 'V' sign with her fingers. "I'm Yuffie, the great ninja!" 

"Pleasure," I answered drily, swinging my legs over the side of the plush bed. Mogki clung possessively to my shoulder. 

Yuffie puffed out her cheeks. "Geez, you know, you'd be cuter if you smiled more." 

"Where are my clothes?" Cool air tickled my legs, and I regarded my state of near undress with a bit of annoyance. Most noticeably was the bracelet missing from my wrist, and I clamped a hand around the empty spot absently. Most likely it was with the keyblade, and I bet Scarface had _that_. "And where's the keyblade?" 

The girl scratched her cheek sheepishly. "The keyblade's fine, you'll get it in a moment. As for your clothes... well, they were kinda torn up, so we got rid of them." 

"We?" 

She gestured wildly, embarrassed. "I meant the guys! I didn't do a thing, really!" 

I shrugged, not bothered either way except in the fact that I was missing most of my clothes and the keyblade wasn't right here, right now. "So should I parade around in just my underclothes?" 

Cheeks still tinted a faint pink, Yuffie snickered a little and shook her head. "While I'm sure the fanservice would be appreciated, I picked out some new clothing for you. And it's a good thing I'm around! You have some horrible fashion sense!" 

Looking her up and down slowly, I raised a brow, more than a little offended. "What?" Mogki echoed my sentiment with his own chirp. 

"I mean, what you were wearing was just a textile sin against humanity! Yellow is just _not_ your colour, you know? And waders? What were you _thinking_?" 

"I did come from an island," I said stiffly, bristling. "And they're not waders." 

"Could've fooled me." Yuffie waved a hand dismissingly. "Anyway, I've got you a much cooler outfit. They're in the bathroom; you should probably wash up too." She pointed to a small doorway on the far side of the room. "When you're done, we'll meet up with the others. We've got lots to talk about." 

"I can only imagine," I replied drily, placing Mogki on the bed as I stood up and worked the kinks out of my muscles. Whatever healing medicine they had, it was simply amazing. 

Yuffie whirled away from me, smacking her fists onto her hips. "Don't take too long. Squall's not the most patient person in the world." 

"Wouldn't want to piss off him off, now would I?" Whoever he was. 

She cast a brief, wry smile over her shoulder at me. "Oh, he doesn't like you already." 

"I'm weeping. Really." 

"And honestly, I don't much like you either." And she flounced to the room exit, snapping the door shut behind her. 

Mogki fluttered off the bed with a little sigh, petting me on the cheek reassuringly. '_Mogki still like Ri-kupo._' 

I shook my head, rubbing the moogle's head with my thumb. "I've never been a real people person." A little laugh escaped me with that statement. But then, I've never been overly concerned about people. Just Sora, and Kairi to an extent. People were simply faceless bodies that passed by me in life, like leaves in the wind or falling rain. There were too many to distinguish, all similar to the other. 

People never concerned themselves with me either. It was a mutual disregard that we both respected. 

I gave Mogki a final apologetic pat and headed toward the bathroom. 

+++++++++l+o+o+k+i+n+g++t+o++f+i+n+d++m+y++g+o+a+l+++++++++ 

"Happy Birthday!" 

He looked up from watching the crabs scuttling across the sand, squinting his eyes in the bright morning sun. Identifying the silhouette framed against the sky as his Friend, he smiled slightly despite himself. 

"It's not my birthday." 

"I know." The Boy thrust a bundle of sweets into his face. "But you won't tell Me when it is, so I have to keep guessing." 

Taking the sweets, his smile widened. "Maybe I just like You giving me presents everyday." 

His Friend plopped down beside him, pulling off dirty sneakers. "My allowance isn't a lot, you know." 

A quick inspection of the bundle revealed a fine array of suckers, mints, and chocolates. Pulling out one of the latter, he unwrapped it and held it out to Him. "Thanks for the present, Sora," he said, warmth flooding his pale features. 

The other Boy grinned, snatching the morsel and popping it in His mouth. "I'm just messin' with you," He told him around the gooey sweet. "I don't mind getting you presents." 

"Why?" The question spilled out before he could stop it. Embarrassed, he busied himself with unwrapping another chocolate. 

The Boy shrugged, wiggling His bare toes and then prodding him in the leg with them. "I dunno. I guess cause you always seem so happy when you get one." Swallowing thoughtfully, He added, "You seem really different that way." 

Watching their feet entangle together in the sand, he bit down on the chocolate so he didn't have to reply. Sometimes his Friend hit too close to the mark even though He was shooting without purpose. 

Luckily, He chose not to pursue the subject, and a comfortable pause passed over them as they listened to the echoes of the other children playing on Destiny Island. 

"Riku?" The name was a ripple in the air, spoken tentatively, like the whisper of growing frost on glass. 

"Hm?" he answered after a moment's hesitation, wondering if his Friend was going to ask him the question He asked everyday without fail. 

"When am I gonna meet your mom?" 

The chocolate had made him thirsty. He swallowed hard, saliva working down his dry throat like tiny grains of sand. Why did He always ask this question? Why was it so important to Him? 

"I dunno." It was the same answer as always and it usually pacified Him. 

But not today. 

"Do you think I'm gonna do something embarrassing or bad around your mom?" The Boy shifted, petulantly kicking up sand in little puffs. 

This question angered him as much as it annoyed him. That was definitely not why and He should've known that. 

"It's not You." Hopefully He got the hint that he didn't want this topic pursued any further. 

"Then what's the problem?" He pressed. "You know My mom pretty well, Riku. I wanna meet yours!" 

His fingers dug small holes into the beach, grinding the worn pieces of rock and glass deep into his fingernails. The humid heat was suddenly no longer pleasant, but stifling and muggy. He swallowed again, the lingering taste of thick sugar clinging to his mouth. "Will You just shut up about it already?" 

The words came off as harsh, demanding. But he didn't care, paranoia and fear slowly rising from the empty depths of his shuttered mind, burning holes into his rationale and apathy. 

Silence. The other Boy was too stunned to react immediately, staring dumbly at His friend in mild dismay. His wide mouth flopped open several times, flapping soundlessly as the hurtful remark showered Him with razor needles. 

Standing, he dusted himself off and grabbed his shoes. He wanted to apologize or maybe say something to soften the blow, but his brain was locked down, frozen by the horrible thought of his Friend meeting his mother. Nothing came to mind even if his heart cried for it, so he started to walk away. 

The dark-haired Boy shot to His feet, fists clenched and body stiff. "You and your stupid secrets, Riku! You're not as cool as you think, you know! You're just one big stuck-up dummy!" 

He couldn't help himself; he ran away from those words, but His voice, with all its truths, chased him like a rabid dog, snapping its deadly jaws into his heartstrings and rendering them asunder. 

The air filled his lungs with water, choking him. He was running through some land-based ocean, the sun setting fire to his skin as he frantically sloshed his way along the coast. Ignoring the other children, forgetting how silly he looked stumbling and sprinting for the dock, he didn't stop until he reached his dinghy moored at the furthest edge. Throwing himself into the little boat, he buried his face in his hands while gulping for air in the wet heat. His own gasps drowned out all noise save the tiny voice which endlessly repeated all of his Friend's truths. 

Somewhere he wanted to cry, but knew he couldn't; somewhere he wanted to laugh in sheer hysteria, and in this he indulged. Silent, wild chortles shook his lanky frame, making him light-headed and giddy. He couldn't breathe, oh he couldn't breathe, he was dying. Wouldn't it be a great joke to die friendless? His laughter broke down into tearless sobs of self-pity, realizing that only he was talented enough to lose a friend so quickly over such a stupid thing. 

He hated his mother almost as much as he hated himself for losing Someone so important to him. 

He didn't remember coming home, snapping out of his daze only when Nanna addressed him as he dropped his footwear in the foyer with a dull thud. Her lips said something he didn't understand, but he murmured a noncomittal reply anyway before heading to his room. 

He passed by the living room without a second glance, knowing the ghost was still haunting her corner by the windowseat. Her breaths were soft, but his sensitive ears picked them up clearly. A living doll that imitated humankind in every way but life. 

He quickly retreated to the solace of his haven upstairs. 

Immaculate, organized. The opposite of the chaos of his former Friend's room. Everything had its place here, a rigid caste that followed his every whim. Here he was king. Like a dimunitive deity, he dictated the roles and existence of everything before him in the empire of his bedchamber. 

Throwing himself onto his bed, he buried his head under his pillow and laid there like a beautiful corpse. 

Why had he bothered to trust a Boy with a disarming grin and honest eyes? 

The sun's rays shortened and lengthened as the day wore on. He remained still the entire time, unaware of the passage of day into evening. A soft rap at his door finally forced him into sitting up, shoulders hunched and arms loose at his sides. Eyes darkened by the fading light stared dully at the door, wishing that this source of the outside world would leave him alone. 

A faint 'go away' whisked past his dry lips, but it went unheard. The portal opened and the outside world, with all its scents and noises, spilled in, led by the thin face of Nanna. Her face was smiling, creasing lines all over her parchment skin. He was slightly repulsed by it; it seemed someone had shattered the mirror of her face, distorting the features into a grotesque mockery of something he knew. 

"Someone is here to see you, Riku," she told him pleasantly, guiding in the Boy with the untamed dark hair and guileless face. He was clutching a bundle to his chest, His expression drawn, guilty, nervous. Blue eyes darted around like morpho butterfies, landing here and then fluttering there, taking in everything but the figure sitting still on the bed. 

"When you two are done, dinner is ready." Nanna's smile widened as she patted the Boy on the shoulder, but when she turned to leave, the smile had already faded, her onstage role now over. 

The click of the knob knocked the Boy from distraction, and with bowed head, He held out the bundle with both arms. "You.. you left your present." 

When the other didn't move or respond, He lifted his head and their eyes met. Green locked on blue and a stillness passed over time. 

Tears welled into His eyes, catching in dark eyelashes and sparkling like miniscule diamonds. With fascination, he watched the dying light flicker within them because no one ever cried for him before. It was an unfamiliar sight, made all the more precious because it was Him that wept. Slowly, he opened his arms to Him. 

Dropping the sweets, the Boy exploded into motion, flinging Himself across the room at His friend. The teardrops burst from His eyes like a ruined dam as an incoherent stream of apologies tumbled from His mouth. He clung to the pale-haired boy with all His strength, a desperate sailor clutching the mast for survival in a frightful storm. 

A warm feeling spread across his insides as he clasped his friend in turn. He was needed, wanted. It was a beautiful feeling, and he reveled in it. He wanted this feeling to stay here forever, this euphoric joy of being important to Someone. Being important to Him. 

Soon, the tears passed. The smaller Boy crawled more comfortably into his lap, bushy head tucked under his chin. Sniffles and hiccups still escaped Him, but they were slowly vanquished by the rhythmic stroking of His hair. 

Finally, finally, in the still of the shadowlight, he spoke. 

"Do You really want to meet my mother, Sora?" The words were a mere brush of syllables past his lips, quivering with the faintest hint of fear. 

The soft sounds of surf crashed far away, filtering through the single window in the room. 

Tilting His head, He smiled up at him. "Only if you want me to." 

A small half-smile was the only reply. 

It was the first and last time He ever set foot in that home. 

+++++++++t+a+k+i+n+g++i+n++a+l+l++t+h+i+s++m+i+s+e+r+y+++++++++ 

I screwed the knobs of the faucet off, the spray of liquid dying to a heavy trickle. I watched the droplets fall without really seeing them, trapped in the introspective thoughts which always seemed to occur when one was alone in a shower. The combination of soothing heat and the steady rhythm of falling water must have some sort of hypnotic effect on the human senses, causing the mind to turn on itself and ponder on impossibilities and buried dreams. 

Absolution. Sora's keyblade. I certainly didn't think of it as mine--I've already revealed the shadows that lurked in my heart, so there was no way I should be carrying the Key of Worlds. 

So why did I have it? 

Slinging open the green plastic curtain, I yanked a towel off a nearby rack. Too many questions and mysteries. Why was I here? Why was everything happening again--only differently--and why was I the only one to remember? Why did I have the Key of Worlds? 

Where was Sora...? 

I dried myself off quickly, trying not to jump to any particular conclusion. Maybe Scarface and that fangirl had some answers. Hell, even Cid seemed to know more than he was letting on. I was getting sick of all these secrets and mysteries. I wanted a straight answer. Didn't they realize that Sora's life could be in jeopardy? 

_Well, stupid, they don't know Sora. At least, now they don't._

Yes, there were many things to discuss. 

Draping the towel over my hair, I stepped out of the tub, regarding the neatly folded clothes on the sink counter with an air of distaste. There was nothing wrong with my old clothes... okay, sure, they were a bit tattered, but she didn't have to be so rude about it. I pawed through the pile, wondering what practical use half the 'accessories' had. 

Tugging a pair of dark denim pants from the pile, I pulled them on, wincing a little from the 'newness' feel of them. I had the feeling they might've been a size too small on purpose. A few minutes were spent fiddling with the belts that studded the waist, hips, and legs before I managed to figure out what went where. Next was a black and red shirt, sleeveless and form-fitting. With a slight roll of my eyes, I unzipped the front and shrugged it on. At least it looked similar to my beloved yellow top, albeit the dark colours contrasted so much against my skin that I almost looked bloodless. 

The specter in the large mirror over the sink stared back at me, peeking out from under the veridian material of the towel. Eyes darkened from exhaustion and tension caught mine, and every time I tried to look away, they followed. I didn't want to see those empty orbs, didn't want to be mocked about how I tried so hard to cling to humanity when I sold my heart for power, and yet gained nothing even as I lost everything. That gaze was persistent though, tracking me and forcing me to look. 

They looked the same. Emeralds that lost their polish. Should I have expected something different? I leaned forward over the counter, almost nose-to-nose with my reflection. 

"Can you see my soul?" My reflection repeated the question. No reply came from either of us. Instead, we stared hard at each other, straining to search for that elusive answer. 

A sparkle glittered in the depths of tarnished viridescent jewels. Green swirled blue, dark dissipated into light, sadness swayed to joy. 

... Sora? 

The bathroom door jumped, harried by a flurry of impatient knocks from the other side. 

"Having trouble figuring out which hole your head goes through?" Damned obnoxious girl. I broke contact with my reflection to fling open the door. 

Yuffie stood on the other side with her hands on her slim hips, dark eyes raking me over critically. I fidgeted self-consciously, irritation molding my stance. 

"Much, _much_ better," she finally said with a satisfied expression. "You didn't put everything on though." 

"You mean the useless 'accessories'...?" 

"Hey! They add to the coolness factor!" Yuffie brushed past me to snag the remaining articles of clothing from the sink and thrust them at me in silent command. She had a slightly familiar gaze in her dark eyes, the type of look that Kairi would get when she wanted something and wouldn't let anything stand in her way. The same kind of look that Sora's mother usually got when she wanted Sora to do this chore or that chore before he could come play with me. It was a Woman's Look, that impeccable, demanding stare that promised severe retribution if not heeded. 

With a sour look, I snatched the items from her. The gloves weren't a bad thing, soft and supple, but with a rough grip that would make sure a weapon would not slip from my hands easily. The arm sheath was a little elaborate and was put on with heavy reluctance. It was a piece of material and net stocking that encased my right arm from bicep to wrist and clasped in place with several belts at either end. The cloth was a splash of red against the black netting, and I flexed my arm to make sure it didn't hinder me in any way. 

"Ooooh, that's really much better." She grinned at me, pleased. "Definitely a step over what you had before." 

"I still don't see what was wrong with my old stuff. Torn up, yeah, but--" 

"Nevermind that, cutie pie." I snapped my mouth shut with a click. 

Still grinning, Yuffie ushered me back into the bedroom, urging me to pull on my shoes--my old sneakers, thank all the saints--while drying my hair with the towel. I knocked her hands away and yanked the towel from my head. As I ran my fingers through the damp strands, I could see Yuffie twitching to get a comb. Most likely so she could put my hair into some weird style. No way. To deter her, I threw the towel at Yuffie, scowling. 

"I want to see the others. _Now_." 

She caught the plush fabric with feline reflexes, matching my scowl with a dark one of her own. "Okay, okay. Right this way, _Keyblade Master_." 

+++++++++b+u+t++g+i+v+i+n+g++i+t++a+l+l++m+y++s+o+u+l+++++++++ 

The adjoining room was swabbed with reds and golds instead of greens and whites, bearing the heavy elegance of some ancient court. Thick, invisible incense hung in the air, an exotic scent that stimulated the senses into enchantment. It was hardly larger than the Green Room, but seemed smaller from the mahogany and gilded furniture that crouched like silent sentinels on thick, heavy rugs. 

Scarface and Cid were already waiting, the former leaning against the wall by the exit, arms folded and eyes closed, seemingly at ease; a pose of deceit, for closer inspection revealed a position that put his hand near the strange blade at his side, eyes that were slightly slitted open to observe, and body language that indicated the still posture of a great lion ready to strike. 

The latter looked up from his place at a large table when Yuffie and I entered, face hazed by a screen of smoke emitting from the cigarette planted in his mouth. Mogki flew from his shoulder to mine in an excited burst of 'kupos,' hugging my cheek. I stifled a smile but patted its head. 

"Geezus, what the hell happened to ya?" snorted Cid, raising a thick brow at us. "Going to a blasted fashion show?" 

Yuffie thudded him in the back of the head with a finger, jumping to the defense of her fashion 'sense' before I could say anything. "_I_ think he looks incredibly cute, thanks to my brilliant flair and style! You should let me make you over sometime, old man. That belt-thingy is just awful!" 

"I ain't lettin' ya get yer thrice-damned devil's claws in me, ya two-bit stealin'--" 

"Discuss your fashion differences elsewhere." Scarface pushed himself away from the wall. He reached behind him, pulling out the long, pearl-sheathed elegance of Absolution. 

I automatically started forward, reaching for it with a child's plaintativeness. I didn't like seeing that object of pristine beauty in this stranger's hands; it belonged to Sora and Sora alone. Even my own sin-stained hands weren't worthy to grasp it, but if it was my duty to carry the keyblade till it could be returned to its rightful owner, then I would fulfill my duty ever repenting. 

Scarface swung the blade away, affixing his unblinking gaze on me. 

"I can't believe our savior is just a kid." His voice belied none of that disbelief, but his eyes sharpened as if assessing. 

Scowling, I reached for the keyblade again, only to have it slip away from my fingers. "This 'kid'--," I bit off the word harshly, "--would've kicked your ass if the old geezer didn't interfere." Mogki nodded empathically in agreement. 

Yuffie snickered, but Scarface didn't rise to the bait. 

After a moment, he tossed Absolution to me as he turned back to lean against his previous spot by the doorjamb. I caught the keyblade easily by the hilt with one hand, and it reverted into Sora's chain and pendant in a burst of sparks and swirls, locked once more around my wrist as if it had never left. I clasped the charm protectively, relieved to have it back in my possession, feeling whole once more. 

Yuffie stepped forward tentatively as the tension between Scarface and I died down. "Sorry about the attack and all. We had to get it away from you." 

I yanked out a chair next to Cid, spinning it around to sit in it backwards, resting my arms atop its back. Mogki crawled from my shoulder to the top of my head, nesting itself in my hair. "Cause of the Heartless, right? You could've just asked." 

Scarface didn't say anything, lifting his eyes. I smirked when I caught his look. 

"Should've asked nicely." 

Cid's lips twisted in wry amusement, crushing his spent cigarette in a tray on the table. "At least ya can keep some sense of blasted humour--" 

"--unlike Squall--" Yuffie interjected. 

"It's Leon," came the slightly irritated retort by the door. 

Cid shot the two of them warning glares before clearing his throat to continue. "As I was sayin', nice ya can take this lightheartedly and all that shite, kid, but I dun think yer gettin' the whole friggin' gist here." 

Resting my chin on my arms, I smiled bitterly. "I think I do. In fact, I know more than the 'gist'--I know the entire story from beginning to end. Heartless, Maleficent, Ansem... I can even tell you about Kingdom Hearts and ZioN." 

Cid and Yuffie stared at me; even Scarface--rather, Leon--lifted his head to blink owlishly in amazement. A low rumble buzzed in Mogki's throat, the pompom atop its head stiffening in fright. 

I closed my eyes, tilting my head to rub my cheek against the chain adorning my wrist. My smile grew ever more bitter and self-derisive. "Or would you be able to believe the tale of a lost sinner?" 

+++++++++m+a+d+e++i+n++h+e+a+v+e+n+++++++++ 

"I can't believe that Ansem..." Yuffie trailed off and turned away, absently hugging herself as she tried to absorb all she heard. 

"Immersing yourself in darkness, it becomes easy to succumb to it." Leon's brow crinkled slightly in thought, assessing me and my tale. 

I said nothing; I had spoken for a good hour or more, telling my story as it was till now, omitting the more personal events, of course. There was not much else to add; if they believed my story or not was of no concern to me. 

Mogki's paws entangled in my hair, yanking on the strands in what I supposed was meant to be a soothing, reassuring gesture. The pain was a welcome touch, however, during this unburial of the skeletons in my closet. 

Cid, flicking the ash from his fifth cigarette, added no further comment. 

Silence passed for several moments, a heavy fog of inaudible cacophony that drummed in my ears with cackling accusations and pointing fingers. It was deafening, not in the way that shouts and screams were deafening, but the way the roars of the sea were deafening. An erratic beat that grasped and choked me, punctuated by staring eyes and stony faces. I didn't care if they believed me or not, but why did they have to look at me that way? As if I was nothing more than some curious insect, insignificant and meant only for inspection and research. My fingers dug into my skin, and I bit my lip to keep from snapping at them. They weren't my friends, but they had been Sora's allies; unfortunately, this meant they were the only people that could help me find him. Just stop looking this way. 

"I guess," Cid started, tearing into the hoarse silence before trailing off. He flicked more ash from the rapidly disappearing stick in his hand. "I guess the bloody question we all have burnin' in our noggin's is, 'what now'?" 

I blinked. "You... believe me? Just like that?" 

"I've heard worse, kid. When we ain't so damn busy savin' the flamin' universe, I've got some friggin' great tales to spin." 

Leon nodded. "And the Key of Worlds, as you call it, wouldn't choose an evil bearer. Your words have to be truth, fantastical as it may seem." 

Yuffie looked a little doubtful, but she too nodded in turn. 

Evil bearer, huh? I wanted to laugh. My lips quirked. "The vote of confidence positively astounds me, really." 

Cid shot me a trademark scowl. "Dun get sassy, kid. Yer needin' help and ya can't bloody deny it. Dun go shootin' yer allies when yer shite ain't even together." 

I pressed my lips together, opting not to retort. He had a point, after all, and I was willing to sacrifice a great many things to get my Sora back safe and sound. Until then, I'd have to grin and bear it with this group of merry fools. 

Yuffie glanced at Leon. "Well, according to him, 'everything's happening again,' but I don't remember anything of what he's said. Do you?" 

The man shook his head. "If he's gone back in time, it makes sense that he would be the only person to remember." 

I rolled my eyes. "Everything is happening, in the sense that it's happened before, but it's not the _same_ as before. I don't think it's easy as 'going back in time,' otherwise wouldn't it all just be a repeat of what I've already experienced? Besides, how the hell can anyone go back in time?" 

With a dark look, Leon uncrossed and crossed his arms. "I know quite a bit about time, and it's very possible. Maybe not with your level of ability, but a great sorcerer would certainly have the capability for time travel." 

"Great sorcerer, huh?" Cid watched the cherry on his cigarette burn. "Or even a great wiseman-turned-sorcerer...?" 

Another silence passed between us. A knot twisted in my stomach as my worst fears unfolded in my mind. 

Somehow, I always had the feeling that Ansem was connected with this. 

"He's dead." 

Everyone turned to look at me. I wasn't even aware I had spoken, staring blindly at the rich mahogany wood of the table. The grains in its laquered surface danced and twirled, molding themselves into the round features of Sora before splitting away again, this time reforming into the sharp relief of Ansem's profile. 

"He's dead. Sora killed him." The strong conviction in my voice scared me. 

"But if you've gone back in time, that means he's probably still alive," Yuffie said a little uncertainly. 

I shook my head, watching Ansem's face scatter back into wood grain. "He's dead. There wasn't a chance for him to do anything. He's dead." I looked up at her, firm, cold. 

"We can't rule out the possibility." Leon pushed himself off the wall, lifting up his blade and hoisting it over his shoulder. "Either way, we know too little right now to jump to any sort of conclusion." 

"Yanno, I know this ol' sage bum..." Cid put out his smoke, leaning back in his chair and tucking his thumbs into his wide belt. "I had to do some work for him a while back--flamin' difficult it was, repairin' that bloody book--and he seems like he's got a good bit o' knowledge under his pointy hat." 

Leon frowned slightly. "You mean the old man that lives near the waterways?" 

Cid nodded, glancing at me. "He talks real funny, that one, but he'll be the best help we'll get 'round these damn parts." 

My desire to understand my situation conflicted with my desire to find a way to immediately leave Traverse Town to seek Sora. In the end though, I realized that both were heavily related to each other. Finding Sora would mean confronting the conflict at hand; resolving the conflict at hand would mean finding Sora. 

I stood, pulling Mogki off my head. "Then I want to see him." 

Leon turned to Cid and Yuffie. "I'll take him. Wait here for Aeris--she should be returning with the King's convoy soon." 

"Aye, aye, sir!" Yuffie quipped, saluting. 

"I can go by myself," I said, not wanting to be in Leon's company any longer than necessary. "I have a pretty good idea where it is." My initial meeting with Sora in the other time had occurred near that area. 

Leon just looked at me. "And you won't be able to get in. Unless you've been holding back about your magical ability." 

I grumbled in defeat, eyeing him with intense dislike, a stare he returned with just as much magnanomity. "Then don't get in the way." 

"Likewise." 

+++++++++i+t++w+a+s++a+l+l++m+e+a+n+t++t+o++b+e+++++++++ 

BGM 04: _Made in Heaven_, Queen 

I can't express how much I am thankful for the reviews. Constructive criticism that point out problems/good points or ones that just go 'this story is cool!' completely make my day. Thanks people, especially Rosalyn Angel-sama, who took the time to leave a rather detailed review. o.o; Also, for the few people who have asked 'Is Sora going to be evil in this?', I can only say, 'Define evil.' 

I also want to rant a long excuse on the huge delay in this chapter. I originally had written much of Syn:04 after Syn:03 had been published on ff.net, but then, KH Final Mix was released. 

Along with the infamous 'deep dive' video. 

I pride myself on trying to stick to canon characterizations and story as much as possible in my fanfictions. I enjoy twisting a bit of truth here and there, but otherwise trying to let the original product--which I much love if I'm going to spend time doing fanwork for it--shine through. 

I said I would not start on Synonymy unless I had 75% of the story mapped out and reasoned and plotted. So I worked hard on creating the story, and then 'deep dive' came out and shot every bit of my story full of holes and contradictions with KH's original vision. 

This seriously depressed me. I had worked Syn to be a close parallel to what I felt KH meant, but with the release of Final Mix (which revealed more into the KH story than was previously known), it made my story just sound... well, like it shouldn't be. Like I was trying to insert my own theories about the idea of KH into established and concrete mannerisms as established by the original creator. It felt like I had done a lot of work, for nothing. 

I let Syn sit on the shelf for many months, falling out of the KH fandom in general and moving onto other interests. 

Then, one day, I get a review for Syn from ff.net. And then another. And then someone mailed a review to me after reading Syn archived at the Spare Key [www.geocities.com/sparekeyfic]. 

I felt motivated again, knowing people still loved the story. And I told myself that this was a _fanfic_ and that I was taking myself too seriously; the idea behind a fanfic is that it's the fulfillment of someone's personal fantasy, of something they wanted to be seen but hadn't been shown. 

So screw Final Mix, KH2, deep dive, and whatever else! This ship is going where I want it to go, toward RikuSora-dom, toward ZioN, toward the fulfillment of _my_ fantasy. 

As such, everything in this story will most likely flatly contradict deep dive, KH2, and whatever other little things Nomura is going to come up with. If that doesn't bother you, please stay on the train, keep your hands and feet inside the lines, and I hope you enjoy the ride. 

Comments and criticism welcome, as always. 


	6. Synonymy:05

**Title**: Synonymy:05  
**Author name**: Ruaki [valhalla.morethanart.org]  
**Author email**: ruakichan@aol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingd*m Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! @.@

**Author's Note**: Final bit of exposition ahead. It's a slow chapter, but this is the last of it. Thanks again to mah lovely betas, Cuchi-chan and Aachan, cause you know, they really do make a difference! (Re-reading of my earlier chapters showcased a horrendous amount of errors. x.x) Please enjoy! 

Oh yah, some naughty language from Riku in one or two places in this. While I normally don't like crude language in fics, there's just no other way to put it when it is certain subject matter. x.x I apologize for any contradictions made to anything made factual by KH: Final Mix. I came up with this before that blasted game was released. --; 

======================= 

_For my part, I think that a knowledge of the future would be a disadvantage. ~**Cicero [De Devinatione]**_

+++++++++ o/~ +++++++++ 

Cascading in sun-streaked iridescent hues, Absolution ripped through the Heartless soldier with remarkable ease, backpedaling only to slash at another beast with its shining blade. Both Heartless exploded in a burst of uncoloured sparks and glittering hearts, clearing the road. But Absolution did not rest, seeking further prey to hunt, a shark pivoting onto defenseless fish. The keyblade fell again and again, monochrome transluscent rainbow trails left as a testament of a god's wrath. At each contact with Heartless substance, the deep, immense drumming heartbeat of the fragmented world I stood upon thrummed loud in my ears. As I listened, I could hear it in my head and feel it in my chest, that irregular beat which was either too quick or too slow... 

Behind me, the minute explosions ringing from Leon's foreign weapon shot through the brilliantly lit town square. The numbers were against us in this ambush, but neither of us were particularly concerned. Our abilities were just too high level for such paltry fiends. 

Water seeped through the cobblestones in the square, ebbing in on miniscule waves that licked at my shoes. Lost in Absolution's trance, I pressed instinctively back against Leon, barely sparing the water a glance. Mogki, floating in the air above us, performed the final spin to his deadly dance. 

The water swirled and frothed, boiling away from our feet as the soldiers surged forward around our circle, held back by key and blade. Their breathless hisses were momentarily silenced by a dull sucking sound that popped my ears. Then simultaneously, in no less than ten places, as if sculpted by some invisible hand on a potter's wheel, the water swelled and rose into huge spiraling columns. The spouts raged through the forces of the Heartless, swarming about us but never crossing the protective barrier Mogki set up against its own magic. The winds buffeted fiercely, great hands pounding at our enemies but caressing our cheeks. The Heartless were swallowed by the turbulent tornadoes, ripped apart by the roaring element, spraying mist like invisible blood to stain our skin. Those that escaped the torrents to uselessly grab at us quickly met their end through nonmagical means, and soon, the cry of the spouts slowly died as the last of the hearts slipped into the clouds. 

The funnels collapsed into the road with little ceremony, flicking droplets of water onto us as they faded into the memory of puddles. 

Mogki, with its antennae dropping in exhaustion, fluttered down to plop onto my shoulder. I rubbed its tiny ears with some fondness, continually amazed by the punch the little guy carried as I surveyed the cleared square. 

Leon stepped into the receding water which flooded the stones, shaking condensation from the steel of his sword. "Overkill," he finally said, slinging his weapon onto his shoulder. 

"It got the job done," I snapped, quick to jump to Mogki's defense. "We don't have time to waste as it stands anyway." 

The man grunted--in agreement or not, I couldn't tell--sloshing toward the far end of the square. 

After a moment I followed, my grip tightening around Absolution's hilt, wary of another attack. 

The Heartless had swarmed out of nowhere in droves ever since we left the safety of the inn. We couldn't turn a single corner without getting attacked by them, anything from the dimunitive shadows to the more dangerous large-bodies and lightning-quick magi. The deserted streets held little refuge, so sometimes we fought, and sometimes we ran, and always they tracked us. 

To anyone not educated in the Heartless, it seemed odd that they could always be at the right place at the right time. For Heartless were unable to see things like we could, their eyes glowing bright but blind to shapes and colour. Nor did Heartless possess speech patterns, no thoughts to communicate, no brains to plan and organize. But they could hear and recognize a single sound: the steady, rhythmic booming of a heartbeat. Mindless and empty, the only thing that existed in their world was that sound, and they could hear it from a league or more away. The stronger the beat, the more frenzied they became. They desired, craved, and existed only for that sound, wanting to consume and be one with the darkness within it. 

The sound of the life and soul of the world channelled through the Key of Worlds was the strongest beat of all. 

As long as I held the Keyblade, I would always be the object of their desire. They would listen and hear and no matter what I did, short of death, they would follow. 

**[The heart that is strong and true shall win the Keyblade.]**

Leon turned a corner, blade ready for an oncoming attack, but none came. The little road ahead of us was clear, and at its end was a knobless red door emblazoned with a stylized flame. 

I didn't have to ask Leon if this was it; I recognized the area quite well as the place of my first reunion with Sora in the past that time forgot. In fact... I lifted my head, gazing at the staircase and its balcony that oversaw the forum; that had been where I had laid in ambush for Sora, seeking to make a dramatic entrance to impress him... 

Leon approached the door with me in tow, murmuring to himself as he passed his hand over the flame emblem on its surface. A spark ignited under his palm, enveloping his fingers in a healthy blaze that warmed the portal, charming it to open on soundless hinges. 

I wrinkled my nose at the small display of pyrotechnics. I had next to no affinity for magic, preferring the strike of steel over the mystical mumbo jumbo of a spell. Magic and I had never agreed anyway. I couldn't conjure even so much as a spark or cantrip. Maleficent had only been able to grant me the use of spells by the use of an 'astral shadow'--something I never quite understood, but in essence, allowed me to dip into a tiny reserve of her powers as a substitute for the lack of my own. Hell, I had been surprised by what magic Ansem had been able to wring out of my body when he possessed it... 

The thought of Ansem passed a cloud over my mind, and I scowled at myself. Ansem was dead; let sleeping ghosts lie, Riku. There was no way he could be involved in this, an idealogy that I clung to with every fiber of my being. Maleficent had been a stern matron, an evil witch hiding behind the facade of a distant mother, but Ansem... Ansem... Thinking about it awoke the hairs on my neck, pushed sweat from the pores of my temple. My fingers tensed around Absolution till all the blood drained from my hand and my muscles ached from the strain. 

Ansem just had a way of fucking with your mind. 

"Coming?" 

Shaken from my rapidly darkening thoughts, I glanced at Leon, who had already passed through the door, waiting for me with a raised brow and the flat expression that composed everything Leon-esque. 

Dismissing Absolution with a flick of my mind, I hurriedly slipped into the dark cavern beyond the door, distracting myself by wondering how such a place could exist in a city. Naturally hewn from rock, the hollow was dominated by a large murky pond dotted with a single islet occupied by a decrepit shack. The atmosphere, however, contained none of the damp gloominess associated with most caves; rather, it felt much like the dusty warmth from the secret place back home. The water cooling in my hair and clothes warmed to the air, sticking to my skin with humid suction. I absently picked at the cloth. 

Leon paused at the edge of the pond, staring at it with a slight wrinkle in his pretty-boy complexion. Meandering up beside him, I could see what ruffled his feathers so. 

Large rocks had been dropped into the still waters to provide a viable path toward the ramshackle hut; however, upon our approach the rocks had begun to shift in the water, sliding like oil this way and that. The stones had obviously been enchanted to deter visitors, although really, the red door previously was enough of precaution against curious sightseers. This was just being pretentious. 

"After you," I said to Leon, garnering up a bit of amusement from the slight tightening of his lips. Still, without hesitation, his body coiled and released in a graceful leap, thudding onto the first sliding rock. He slipped a little, boots skidding on the algae that slicked the surface of the stone, but supreme balance held him steady. 

Pausing only to shoot me the briefest of glances, Leon continued to bound from boulder to boulder toward the hut. 

'_Mogki help Ri-kupo if Ri-kupo fall._' The moogle batted its wings, and I seriously doubted that the tiny creature would have the power to carry my weight, whatever it said. 

Not that it would come to that, of course. I smirked, rubbing the moogle's head. Falling was the least of my worries. Living by the sea primed me for things like this, and my athleticism was not without merit, after all. 

Leon was waiting for me as I landed on the hard clod that circled the isle's perimeter, pale blue orbs assessing. "How long have you been training?" 

The question startled me, as it had been the first attempt at conversation since we left the inn. My brows furrowed, wondering at the intent behind those words. Leon didn't seem like the type for meaningless pratter. 

"Six, seven years." I shrugged, figuring he meant my swordsmanship skills. "I didn't have much to do and I collected weapons as a hobby." My father had left behind a massive collection of blades from all over the world before he disappeared, and it was only natural that I clung to the remaining pieces of him that I had left. All that beautiful, unyielding steel, crafted by human hands but had the abilities of a god, judging what lived and what died. I learned the blade because it gave me the impression that I had some control over my own life and destiny. 

Dreams of the young... 

Leon drilled me with his eyes for a moment before nodding and turning away to approach the hut. "You've still got some ways to go, cub." 

"Hey! What did you say?" I immediately tensed, on the defensive. 

He didn't bother to clarify, examining the collapsed and blocked front entrance of the shack. 

"I'm not some inept novice," I protested, the odd wheedling tone in my voice sounding curiously like Sora when I would tease him over a slight fault. I paused, pressing fingers to my lips, a little taken aback by the uncharacteristic loss of my cool. 

Ignoring me still, Leon lifted his head and cast a searching gaze around the outward base of the shanty. His nostrils flared as if trying to catch some distinguishing scent; once more, the image of a young lion hunting for prey sprang to mind. 

Mogki sat up on my shoulder, antennae erect and ears flicking. Without a word, it swerved off, veering around the left side of the hut. 

"Mogki!" My summons went unheeded. Leon cocked an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. "It must've heard something." 

Leon thunked one of the planks blocking the front passage with his knuckles, enticing a dull echo from the wood. "I don't think anyone's home, but let's go see what your pet found, cub." 

There was that word again. I bit my tongue at the offhand moniker, realizing a verbal spar with Leon was pointless; baited words and insults seemed to all roll off his back. Instead, I opted to glare daggers into the taller man's back as we rounded the hut. 

As a housing structure, the hut really wasn't much; dilapidated and abused, it seemed like a fairytale monster waiting to awake from a long slumber. Slick, moss-spotted colourless bones of brick shaped the cylindrical skeleton of this shambling creature. A pointed salmon hat with a wide brim capped the body with a chimney pipe haphazardly protruding from the tiles, cold and rusting. Patches of black windows dotted the red fabric here and there, yielding no secrets of what lay inside this seemingly deserted shack. 

And there, like a cancer sore, was a gap between cleanly broken stone, blocked by thick, moth-eaten fabric. Mogki was peeking inside one of the holes, and it looked at us when we walked up. 

'_No one here. Mogki thought Mogki smelled something, but no one here._' 

Leon pushed aside the curtain, musty air escaping from the belly of the hut. The place was as empty as Mogki said, literally devoid of anything save dust, cobwebs, and rock. 

'_Mogki still feel_ /dweomer/ _in air. Mogki think magus be back soon._' 

Leon grunted, entering. "Then we wait." 

I caught the edge of the fabric before it fell, sweeping a good look around the interior. Mogki whisked past me to flutter about the empty space like a cuddy pink bat. The soft beating of its wings echoed loud in the antechamber, and even more strongly was I reminded of the secret place back in what used to be home, when the bats would wait for sunset and sweep out of the crevice in the roof, ascending in black plumes into the dying light. 

Entering the building, a cold chill slithered down my spine despite the warm air, and I rubbed my arms. Leon sat down on the raised inner podium which filled the center of the room, the belts about his hips scraping and clinking together. Hypersensitive to the clinking sound, my head automatically swung toward him. He had lain his blade carefully against the edge of the platform, within reach. The relaxed-readied posture settled over him. 

"How long are we going to wait?" I asked. The air quashed my voice, carrying it flatly. 

"For a little while. If he doesn't show, we'll return." 

My jaw tightened in dissatisfaction at the answer, but I realized there really was little else for us to do now but wait. I sighed softly, rubbing the hairs on my arms again, goosepimples turning my skin into sandpaper. Sora's pendant chimed quietly at the motion, a tiny bird at my wrist. 

Finally entering, I slowly walked around the circular edge of the chamber, marvelling at how large it was inside when it seemed so small outside. Still running my hands over my arms unconsciously, I listened to Sora's bird sing sweet trills to me, the charming voice carrying up into the high roof where Mogki played. 

"It's kinda neat, but I think it'd be hard to play hide-n-seek here, right?" 

I glanced over to my right, not surprised to find him strolling beside me, dark unruly hair springing with each step. He shot me a toothy grin, hands slipping behind his head. 

I refused to let myself react, knowing I was giving in to hallucinations. I had finally snapped, I thought to myself, staring dully at Sora. I'm now officially insane, mad, bonkers, fishing without bait, the lights are on but no one's home... Wait... aren't crazy people not supposed to know they're crazy? 

"But it'd be great to play tag in!" 

Maybe I'm trying to convince myself that I was sane when I wasn't. By that logic, I was insane, and not possessed of full rationale. As such, I'm completely and utterly imagining this. 

But even as I told myself that, I did want to believe that Sora was actually here, walking beside me. I still couldn't bring myself to answer, but my eyes were glued to his face, trying not to look for proof that this was a dream... yet, still... 

"You're it!" Sora laughed, jumping in front of me. I abruptly halted, afraid to touch him and find out he was a mirage. I really was crazy. 

"Well, aren't you going to chase me?" He grinned impishly and held out a hand, inviting me to tag him and pass on the status of the pursuer. 

Oh no, but I couldn't touch him. He wouldn't be real. My hand would only capture air, fingers enclosing around nothing but the bitter thought that Sora was not here, that he was somewhere but not here. I could live with this little illusion, this trick on my eyes and ears, and just pretend that Sora was trying to engage me in a game of tag and just let my insanity fill me to the point of complete denial of reality. 

".... I'm sorry, Sora..." 

"Did you say something?" Leon's voice cut to me from across the chamber. 

Sora's face dropped momentarily, but then he smiled again, accepting my apology. "Maybe next time." 

I turned to look at Leon, who was staring at me questioningly. Sora was gone by the time I looked back, and for a moment, I regretted dispelling the mirage. Sighing, I wrapped fingers around my wrist, silencing the song of the charm there. 

"... it's nothing." 

A soft inhale indicated a reply from the other man, but the scrape of boots and the slide of metal on rock whispered instead. Mogki chirped in warning and I skidded over to join Leon, who stood ready to attack anything that entered the portal. 

Soft talking, the noise that alerted us, slowly approached the curtained door. The words were mumbled low, deep, filtering through the air like forgotten chords from a phonograph. 

"...going to be late... confounded travel agent... bahamas not bermuda..." The cloth swished aside, a wizened hand crawling past the fabric like a spider. Capturing the material in its legs, the spidery hand lifted it and allowed an ancient blue creature to scuttle in, a third wooden leg thumping on the stone. 

The old man blinked myopically at the three of us, adjusting the round spectacles perched on his bulbous nose. "Ah." He didn't seem so much surprised about having visitors, but that we got here before he did. 

Leon stepped forward, lowering his blade. "You must be Merlin." 

The old man shifted, bones audibly creaking like floorboards, leaning heavily on his third leg, a wooden cane topped with a heavy knob. Once more he stared about the room, studying us. "Merlin? Yes... yes... Merlin is a name they call me." His mouth was buried beneath thick snow-white moustaches and a long grey beard. The hair bristled and puffed from his hidden breath, but did little to muffle the surprisingly powerful voice which pushed from his small chest. 

"We--" 

Merlin suddenly raised his arms above his head then, one hand splayed to ask for silence, the other holding his cane like a prized sword of wonder. A look of irritation rippled the pool of calm in Leon's face. 

"Your coming has been foretold!" he bellowed, his voice gaining intensity, lowering his cane to point its end at me with an imposing, hawkish glare. I stared back, not blinking, even as Mogki shivered and darted to my shoulder, huddling behind my neck. The light in the room dampened even as the wizard radiated a phosphorus glow that made him seem larger to the eye. 

"I, Myrddin, Emrys, Taliesin, Merlin, have prophesized the coming of the Keyblade Master and now stand ready to lend you my wisdom, Sora!" 

Somewhere, a boom savagely clawed at the air, a dramatic punctuation to an ostentatious speech. 

"I'm not Sora." 

The lights were abruptly restored as the wizard deflated, crumbling back into a bent old man. "E-eh?" His glasses blinked at me. 

"My name is not Sora. It's Riku." Was this guy for real? 

Merlin rubbed his beard. "Oh. Oh my." He peered at me, now tugging on the gnarled facial hair. "Are you sure you're not Sora?" 

"Merlin," Leon began, putting a hand on the wizard's shoulder. 

Merlin suddenly shook him off, stabbing the floor violently with his cane. "Oh dear, this is bad. It is all a mess. The dimensions have collided, the paths are no longer parallel. Someone gave the highway development team the wrong plans..." 

Leon and I exchanged silent looks as the old man hobbled out the door, calling loudly, "Archimedes! Archimedes, fetch my bag, will you? Archimedes?" 

Leon and I exchanged another look. Cid hadn't been kidding about the wizard being eccentric. 

Merlin returned a few moments later carrying a small handcase, the lines in his face etched with sorrow. "I keep forgetting that he's not here. Silly, silly me." Dropping the handcase to the floor with a whump, he kicked it a few times as he rolled up his voluminous sleeves, revealing spindly pale arms. "Wake up in there, we're home!" 

"It'll just be a moment," he informed us with a little wink. He shook his cane aggressively until stardust sparked from the end, waving it around a few times till he got a steady flow. Humming a tempo to himself, he tapped the top of his case twice. "A one, a two..." 

The cane flicked and waggled in a manner not unlike that of a conductor of a musical troupe, golden flakes swirling about in a hazy mist. The case popped open, a black maw which regurgitated tiny particles that danced to the hummed tune, a congo of inanimates hopping in the air, gaining mass and momentum. Leon and I stepped back as a doll's dresser slowly ballooned into a full fledged bureau, and dozens upon dozens tiny toy books popped into heavy tomes that flopped aimlessly against the walls. Brooms swept by us, cleaning the dirt and dust, as buckets of soapy water and masterless sponges scrubbed the cobwebs from the stone. 

I watched in a slight boyish amazement, for despite seeing spells that could crush a kingdom into rubble, such simple fantastical magic was nothing short of... entertaining. 

A startled noise escaped Leon as he barely managed to dodge out of the way of a merrily fluttering rug, only to be nearly crushed by a dining set tromping in step dance to the center of the room. I started to smirk, when a set of cutlery and dinnerware flung themselves at me, wishing to waltz. I slid away only to bang my head against a meandering telescope. Rubbing my skull, I ducked under a swooping family of china, and Mogki screeched as a wayward teacup approached too closely. The moogle tackled the cup, grappling with it, presumably to save my life. I slapped both hands over my mouth to hide the broad grin working itself onto my face, laughter pushing against my throat. 

I wished Sora was here to see this. 

When Merlin was done, the once empty hut was filled with an endless amount of chaos, stacked hither-wither in no semblence of order. A bed lurked in one area, half-buried in piles of books and scrolls. A desk peeked out from yet another mound of parchment and tomes, while the bureau vainly attempted to make its presence known under a gathering of knick-knacks and gadgets. 

The center platform was set up with a small dinette, fronted by a worn and patched cathedra currently occupied by our eccentric host. His pointed hat with its badly bent tip almost extended past the back of his chair, a monstrous blue thing perched atop his bushy white hair like a strange turtle. The blue robes that wrapped his body filled the seat of the chair like water, folds almost hiding the garish fabric from view. I was struck by the image of an owl at perch, wise, unblinking eyes noting all movements in the room. 

Leon and I were seated opposite from each other on either side of Merlin, waiting for our host to speak. He had refused all questions and conversation until we were settled in and tea had been served. Hospitality, he assured us, is a fading tradition. No need to contribute to it. 

"Would you like some sugar, Sora?" Merlin smiled at me, moustaches jerking as if electrified. 

"Riku," I corrected, directing a frown at the steaming cup before me. I was getting a little impatient. 

"Ah, I keep forgetting," Merlin apologized. He rapped his hands together sharply. "Sugar? Sugar!" 

On the serving platter in the middle of the table, a small sugar bowl armed with a teaspoon stirred and bounded to life. 

"Sleeping on the job, were you?" Merlin wagged a bony finger at it. "Mind you, we have guests!" 

The sugar bowl saluted, immediately hopping toward me. 

"Just say when," Merlin informed us, warm candlelight glinting off the rims of his glasses. "Now that we're all settled, let's get down to business." 

"Finally," I muttered to myself, watching the jaunty sugar bowl drop two spoons of powder into my tea before I quietly said 'when.' It was a cute thing, really, its bouncing movements reminding me of Sora's over-extending and hyper sword swings. 

"Imagine, if you will, the idea of time as a river with many tributaries." 

The sugar bowl seemed a little disappointed at being stopped so early, but it tilted its lid at me in thanks before moving toward Leon. 

Merlin splayed his fingers wide. "This river splits and branches off into all sorts of directions, each following its own path into the wilderness." 

Leon waved aside the offer of sugar, staring intently at Merlin. "So you're saying someone deviated the flow of time?" 

Merlin blinked, thrown off his zone. "What? Oh, no no." 

Mogki slipped from my shoulder, rolling onto the table in a blob of fur. Slithering slowly along its belly like a cat, the moogle stalked the sugar bowl. Its pink nose wiggled, smiling eyes alight with vivacious curiousity. I hissed at it to return to me, having a general idea of what was going through the moogle's mind. 

"I'm merely telling you that there are an infinite amount of possibilities in an infinite amount of universes." 

Mogki's antennae perked, and it slowed to a stop. With a slight wiggle of its hindquarters, it pounced the china, snatching off the lid and holding it up triumphantly. 

"Mogki!" The moogle turned at my chatisement, only to be whacked on the skull with a spoon. 

'_Ouchies!_' Mogki dropped the lid, which was promptly snatched up by the sugar dish. 

"Huh? What now?" Merlin paused in his musings to peer at the moogle and china. The enchanted bowl dusted off its cap, inspecting it for any chips or cracks before shaking its spoon at Mogki threateningly. The moogle shied away, clutching its head. I stifled a small smile at Mogki's childish hurt. 

"You silly thing." Merlin motioned Mogki over to him, and the moogle reluctantly obeyed. "Don't you go start anything foolish. That sugar, it's a mean one." 

He reached into his voluminous sleeves. "Ah, but what do I have here?" His eye twinkled and he withdrew a gnarled brown nut. "Will you look at that? Why, I think it's something a young fey creature such as yourself might find more enjoyable than a sugar's lid." 

With a cry of delight, Mogki accepted the offering, clutching it close to its chest as it returned to its roost on my shoulder. Merlin's eyes crinkled with delight. "I do miss having a pet." 

"You can have this one," I replied jokingly, rubbing Mogki's head and earning a yank on my hair for my comment. 

'_Mogki not want to leave Ri-kupo!_' 

"Just kidding, just kidding..." 

Leon sipped his tea delicately, setting down the cup noiselessly into its saucer. "You were talking about infinite possibilities?" 

"What? Oh yes." Merlin adjusted his spectacles, motioning for the sulking sugar bowl to serve him. 

"The decisions made in the course of a few moments can create thousands upon thousands of scenarios, which, in turn, create new tributaries in the flow of time. 

"For instance, Sora, would you like an apple?" 

"My name is Riku," I replied mildly, tilting my head away from the crunching of Mogki's snack. "And no." 

"Ah ha!" Merlin jumped up, startling me, finger extended to the sky. "Because I offered you that choice, several paths branched out before you, and you chose the path that will serve to make you hungry sooner than later." 

I frowned, still not quite comprehending the point. "Isn't that just cause and effect? Because I chose to do something, then something else happens?" 

The wizard gesticulated wildly. "At its most rudimentary, yes, it's very much cause and effect. The cause of situation A creates an effect that results in situation B. However, what if one were to use situation C to arrive at situation B? While the effect might seem the same, the road is vastly different. This too affects the effect. Perceptions are altered, what was black is now white, the film was translated to mean something different. Situation B still exists, yes, but it is no longer the B of A, but a new form of B, the B of C." 

"Merlin," Leon spoke up quietly. 

The wizard barrelled on, obviously on a roll. He stabbed the air to mark his points. "In essence, this creates infinite realms of possibility that run side by side in the stream of time, based of decisions made and decisions discarded. Whole new tributaries are created at the onset of a choice, but when a choice is made, only one continues to flow." 

"Merlin," Leon said again, motioning slightly. 

I glanced at what had caught the pretty-boy's attention and grinned. All while Merlin had been ranting, the sugar bowl had been gleefully heaping mounds of sugar into the wizard's teacup. A tall, white peak protruded beyond the rim, with grains of powder skipping off the sides into the saucer below. It was quite the mess. 

"What is it, ol' chap?" 

Leon gestured again toward the cup and bowl. 

"AH! Stop! Stop I say! Er, when! When!" Merlin's face darkened, beard bristling with violence. The sugar bowl continued to merrily do its duty, oblivious and daydreaming. "When! Confound you, _WHEN_!" 

The china jumped a foot in the air, landing with a clatter and scrambling for the safety of the platter. It peeked out from behind a chipped teapot and quickly retreated as the onset of Merlin's glower threatened great harm. 

"Blasted enchantments..." Merlin swept the excess sugar off his tea with the end of his beard and dusted it all off the table. "Like stubborn children." He harrumphed and threw himself into his chair. 

Leon and I remained wisely silent. 

Picking up his cup and blowing the steam from it, Merlin took a sip, glaring at nothing in particular. He paused with a grimance and then set it back down. "This is an excellent point right here. Had I been paying attention, I could be enjoying a spot of tea right now. Unfortunately, that particular path is gone to me now." The angry look evaporated from his face, leaving behind a trace of regret. 

"While I get your point," I replied, drumming my fingers on the table, "I fail to see its relevenance to the current situation." 

"Ah, you mean your recurring deja vu?" Merlin dumped his cup of sugar-tea into the pot. "Why, it has everything to do with it. 

"My boy," and he smiled at me, "this is the past." 

"No," I said slowly, "it's not. If it were, you'd be talking to Sora instead." 

"Boy, boy! You're not listening!" Merlin swept his arms wide, blue wings flapping. "You are not _reliving_ the past, you are experiencing another branch of it. 

"It only takes a single, sometimes minor, choice to greatly alter the future. Imagine the momentum of a snowball down a mountain, growing and growing till it is now a boulder and then an avalanche... 

"It is impossible to exist in the past and relive it. You never make the same exact choices all the time. As such, you are creating a new future with every choice you make." 

I was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. So... this was the past? But it wasn't? Everything was the same, but different? If I was creating a new future, what did that mean about the old one? The original one that is embedded in my memories? 

Merlin steepled his fingers, closing his eyes. "I imagine Ansem is behind this. He was--is--a great sage, a great sorcerer, that one. I have no doubt on his abilities to freely wander the streams of time. It is but a step to be able to manipulate it." 

"Then why..." I trailed off, fingers clenching the table as a knot clenched my belly. Ansem... shit, Ansem... I hoped he hadn't found Sora yet. 

"Why do you remember events you should not? Why can you still readily recall the future that time has forgotten and discarded? Why are you travelling down one current, when the other is where you truly belong?" Merlin's spectacles caught the light, hiding his eyes from me, but their piercing stare stabbed me all the same. "Most likely, it has to do with your relationship with Ansem." 

Leon and Mogki both looked at me curiously, even as my gaze dropped to the table. 

'Relationship' with Ansem, huh? Heh.. first he was a voice in my head, then a shadow in my step, and finally, we shared the same body and mind... 

I had dodged around explaining my role with Ansem to Cid and the others, simply because it shamed me to admit that I was so far gone in my own selfishness to accept the darkness as my only ally. Even more was the responsibility that I had been the one to give Ansem what he was looking for, a substantial, material body to work his evil with. 

... is that was Merlin meant? Because I had been Ansem's link to the physical realm, did it end up affecting me when he did his time magic? 

"The cub here said that Ansem was destroyed, Merlin." Leon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "When would he have been able to use the magic necessary to transport himself or his consciousness into the past?" 

ZioN. 

All heads turned to me and even Mogki's nibbling fell still. I had not realized I spoke my thought aloud. 

Merlin nodded once. "ZioN, the void, the disease that eats at the organs of the universe. I imagine it would've been the stepping stone for Ansem, as that is where all the revenants go." 

"Revenants?" 

I turned my head toward Leon, a sharp bitter smile jerking the muscles in my face. "The Heartless seek the darkness in the heart, releasing it to increase their numbers. But what of the consciousness, the memories, everything left behind? The strong ones don't cease to exist." My voice grew distant, candlelight hazing my vision. "Sometimes the memories take shape, eternally replaying the same tired script over and over with no audience. Sometimes the will is strong enough to create an echo, a ghost, a shadow, a mind with a heart but no body... 

"These are revenants, nobodies." 

I could feel Merlin's eyes on me and our gazes met. I knew what question he was silently asking, and for that, I didn't want to answer. 

"If Ansem was pulled into ZioN instead of being destroyed, and his desire and attachment to his life strong enough, he might've become one. The evil, as well as the good, are able to become revenants." I toyed absently with Sora's pendant. 

Merlin tugged on his beard. "He would then be able to transport himself to an earlier point in time to rectify his mistakes. Even though he may be but a shadow, he can still manipulate events..." 

"Still, if he's so powerful, why didn't he do this when Sora was kicking his ass?" I muttered. 

Merlin chuckled. "Well, number one, until a certain point, he had no power. Only when he manifested was he able to claim his magics." I shifted uncomfortably. "Number two, I'm sure he was quite ignorant of the fact that he was losing, even up until the moment when the Keyblade Master claimed victory." Merlin winked at me. "He was quite insane, you know, and given to delusions." 

No one had to tell me that. 

"However, right now, I do not think he has pulled himself up to full power yet. The fact that you, Riku, are here with your memories intact is one indication. The fact that Ansem seems to have chosen starting over at the earliest point instead of a later one less given to risks says that he couldn't control the magic when he casted it. In the end, he's weak and vulnerable." 

I stood up. "So we just have to find Sora and beat him again. Simple enough." 

"I'm afraid it might not be that simple." Merlin looked at me with long eyes. "Do not trust your memories of what has gone before. It never happened." 

Never happened...? 

"You may think the outcome of the events will be the same, but you will find that the more and more choices you make, the more things will deviate from what you remember." 

But, these were my memories, right? How could I remember things if they 'never happened'? I had betrayed Sora. Had that never happened? Impossible! 

"You are no longer dealing with B of A, Riku. Now, it is B of C. The effect might be the same--the destruction of Ansem and the restoration of the Kingdom--yet it is not the same road. What is black is now white." 

"I know that," I snapped, fidgeting. I didn't like what he was hinting. The idea of Sora... 

Merlin removed his glasses, watching me. "There are an infinite amount of possibilities, Riku, but some are no longer open to you. Do not trust what you think you know." 

"All I know is that I have to find Sora and stop Ansem. It's enough, right?" I glared stubbornly back, daring him to say anything otherwise. 

A thick pause stretched between us, carrying our measuring stares, before Merlin smiled. "Correct." 

Merlin stood, pressing his hands to the table and addressing Leon. "Has the King's envoy arrived yet?" 

Leon shook his head. "The others are looking for them now though, so they'll probably be there when we return." 

"Good, good." Merlin straightened, knuckling his back and gesturing toward me. "Give me your arm, lad, I wish to give you something." 

I cautiously extended my left arm and he took it, patting the back of my hand in a paternal manner. "You're a good boy, whatever you think or whatever you may have done." 

I tried to tug my hand away, but his grip was amazingly like iron. 

"I couldn't give this to _him_ last time." 

Him? My brow furrowed. "Sora?" 

A secretive smile was his only reply. Picking up his cane, he hefted it a few times. "Now... this might hurt a bit." 

"What are you---shit!" The curse whoofed out of my lungs as I clutched my upper arm where the old geezer thwacked me with his cane. 

"Ha ha! Just like a needle, see? A prick of pain and then it's gone!" Merlin hopped off the platform with surprising agility, smartly out of my reach. I growled. Prick of pain, huh? Tell that to the throbbing, stinging skin I was currently clutching. 

"What was that for?" I rubbed at my arm indignantly. 

He shook his cane at me. "You're lucky I decided not to get you in the noggin instead, lad!" 

A noise sounded behind me, and I shot a deadly look at Leon, but his expression was flat, eyes almost... too innocent. 

I resigned myself to not pouting and sighed instead, glancing down at my arm to see if it had been bruised. The pale skin, though red-tinted, was free from any black and blue. Amazingly enough, as it felt like he hit me dead on with a sharp rock thrown full-force. In fact, the ache was already subsiding... 

I poked the skin, just to make sure and let out a surprised yelp as a spark ignited under my finger, quickly and painlessly tracing lines to and fro along invisible curves over the pale flesh, leaving thin trails of burned flesh behind. Before I could react properly, the spark ended at its apex, the light dying with a thin wisp of smoke. 

I stared at the slightly familiar emblem marring my arm. 

"He was a little too incomplete before. The Kingdom rejected him." 

I transferred my stare to Merlin, who was scratching his beard with a smug look. 

"It's a little different now." 

"What. Is. This?" I pointed at the brand, a little upset. 

"Oh, just a little channel that'll let you utilize a world's power now. It's very, hmm.. what's the word you youngun's use now? It's very rad." 

Wary, I prodded the mark, tracing the outline of the heart of the Kingdom to the crown topping it and around the edging of the wings that fanned either side of it. "So it's a good thing?" 

"Ah yes, of course! Just don't take in too much. You might go off like an atom bomb." 

Merlin saw us to the door, cheerfully informing us that we'll meet again sometime soon. He then returned Mogki to me, after shaking the wayward moogle out of his robes. Seems that the nut that Merlin fed to the creature had endeared the moogle to him. He waved goodbye as we left, once more warning me not to trust on what I thought would happen. 

"I hate it when they hide things from you," I muttered to Leon as we crossed the pond. "Wouldn't it just be easier to tell the good guys everything from the get-go so they're properly prepared to vanquish the villain?" 

Leon's lips twitched a little at that, a rare sight. I was rather pleased with myself for managed to quirk some sort of response from the taciturn man. "Perhaps all else he knows is speculation." 

"I guess." 

The red door snapped shut behind us as we exited the cavern into a thick atmosphere. We both fell into still silence, feeling the strong intent laced through the air. The Heartless were afoot. 

"Heh." Absolution shimmered to life, seething with want. "We hung around too long. Looks like they regrouped and found us." 

"Aa." Weapon at ready, Leon side-stepped slowly forward, back against the wall. 

Mogki flew up overhead, scouting with a bird's eye view. 

"Be careful," I warned it, before following Leon. I wasn't too worried, at least, in the sense that I thought Leon, Mogki, and I were pretty capable in handling most of what the Heartless threw at us. 

Most. 

The town square was as quiet as we left it, neons glittering in the mirrors that still slicked the stones here and there. While there was no sign of the enemy, the unsettling feeling of death remained strong. If nothing else, it seemed to be concentrated within this very area. 

Leon stepped into the square, warily advancing across it toward the upper tier on the other side--our exit. I watched the rear, Absolution clenched in both hands, the blade shining. 

A whisper. A hiss. Leon and I both slammed back to back for support instantaneously just as the ground rattled, cobblestones and concrete rising to block us in, cutting off any escape. 

Mogki's voice shot through our heads, laced with distress. '_Ri-kupo! Over there!_' 

Dozens and dozens of shadows boiled into existence, the air sheeting like falling water from their numbers. I tightened my grip as the Heartless crowded around us, bodies twitching convulsively as if they couldn't wait to get a hold of our hearts. Their glowing orbs were like so many fireflies floating in the night, weaving in aimless, near-hypnotic patterns. 

"On three." Leon's voice drifted over my shoulder. I nodded, eyes darting among their ranks, seeking my first victims. 

"One..." 

The Heartless tightened their ring, susurrations filling my head. If I listened hard enough, I could almost make out what they were saying, the song of the lost and forgotten. It was a terrible song and I growled to keep it away, hating it. Absolution quivered in anticipation. Or was that me? 

"Two..." 

My body tensed, ready for that final count. 

"Thr--" 

Simultaneously, the shadows all leapt into the air at us, mulching together into a mess of darkness over our heads. The mass writhed and contorted, gaining shape and form... and then it was falling right at us. 

Leon and I dived in opposite directions just as the newly formed Heartless smashed into the ground, narrowly avoiding us. I rolled to my feet several yards away, swinging Absolution in front of me in a defensive position. I could see Leon in a similar position through the enormous armoured legs of the enemy. The Heartless stamped its heavy boots experimentally, kicking up dust and stone. 

I didn't recognize this Heartless from my studies, a large ten, maybe twelve, foot tall darkness sheathed in thick metal armour. Its limbs--two taloned gauntlets and those pounding feet--were curiously detached from its body, freewheeling of their own accord. The small, helmed head turned toward me and I tensed, ready to either attack or flee. 

The torso bounded high into the air in one direction, backwards, toward Leon, arms pinwheeling free to claw at him. The legs bolted forward, dashing straight for me. 

Holy shit, they were fast, as I barely had time to react when they were stomping madly over where I had been not even a millisecond before. Dust from its raging storm blinded me momentarily, giving the legs enough time to track my heart once more, chasing me around the square. I managed to keep just one half-step ahead of them, but their persistence and frenzied movements made it near impossible to counterattack without retribution. 

Spotting a wall ahead, I swerved sharply to avoid being trapped, curving and backtracking through the legs. The wind from the force of a too-close stomp nearly sent me flying as I stumbled and kept pressing forward. Leon was ahead of me, further down the square, his hands a blur as he blocked and parried furiously snapping talons. Further along was Mogki, trying to distract the body armour from Leon, circling around its head while beating at the helm ineffectively with tiny fists. 

Behind me, the acceleration of the boots increased in the straight run, metal smashing on rock. I bent my head, pushing out an extra burst of speed, aiming myself straight for Leon. 

"Look out!" I shouted when I was almost upon him. Leon leapt back with lightning reflexes just as I whished past him, ducking under the cackling gauntlets toward the torso. 

As I hoped, the feet doggedly followed, crashing into the arms, all four limbs clattering to the ground in a burst of cacophony. I grinned at the noise, pleased with myself, and focused on the final target. Gripping my keyblade with both hands, I dragged it behind me and leapt as high as I could go, the speed of my sprint granting me extra height. At the summit of my jump, I swung and hammered the torso with Absolution like a bat to ball. A clang like a hollow bell echoed loudly, and the body careened sideways, shivering from the vibration of the blow. With a flip, I landed safely back on the ground 

Leon was taking advantage of the limbs' comatose state, his blade slamming against the metal with no result, even the backfire from his weapon barely blackening the steel. As I turned to join him, thinking my keyblade's bludgeoning ability would be more effective than a sword, the limbs rose drunkenly to join their disorientated host. 

The head swiveled around and scrutinized us through the faceguard before shaking its fists in rage. Mogki fluttered over our heads, ready to break into a dance, but the Heartless swung an arm at us, scattering us like pigeons. 

"Go for the head," I yelled, blocking a punch with Absolution, spinning the keyblade in my heads to slash at the fingers. The keyblade bounced back with no effect. "That's probably its vulnerable spot!" 

"It always is, cub," Leon grunted, and together we flew at the enemy, gliding around wildly dancing feet. 

Mogki drew the gauntlets' attention away from us like a pesky furry fly, small body easily avoiding the swatting claws. 

I sprang atop the toe of a boot to pound at the leg, but it kicked wildly, shooting me up at the torso. Splattering onto the smooth armour, I instinctively clawed frantically with one hand, managing to snag the rim of the armour's collar. The body convulsed violently like a dog trying to shake off a flea. I quickly dismissed Absolution to grip my lifehold with both hands, dangling like a pathetic worm. 

Oh, if you could see me now, Sora... 

"EEEEEEE-hahahooooooiiiiiii~e!" 

Startled by the suddenly strange yodel, I glanced up in time to spot a green and yellow meteor wallop into the back of the Heartless' head, rattling the entire frame. My grip fumbled, slipped, and before I knew it, I was freefalling to the hard, unforgiving stones below. 

Funny thing, Sora, did I tell you about the time I broke every bone in my body by falling off a three-story tall Heartless? That's what took me so long to find you, you know... 

My body collided into something soft that gave way under the velocity of my fall, crumbling to the ground with me. I blinked, a little dazed, dropping my eyes to what I had landed on. 

"Leon?" The pretty-boy had caught me and broke my fall, much to my surprise, given that I wouldn't have done the same for him. "You--" 

He suddenly grabbed me, twisted his body over and around mine, rolling us away from being crushed. A grunt escaped from his lungs and even as he pushed himself off me to face oncoming danger he faltered, his arm shredded from a glanced blow by a metal toe. 

"Dammit," he hissed, brow crinkled in pain and teeth clenched. He lifted his head to stare at his blade, discarded a few feet away--behind the oncoming stampede. 

I pushed him aside, summoning Absolution, but the boots were too quick... 

"Take that!" Balls of flame erupted around us, swerving about to hurl into the advancing feet in staccato succession, halting the enemy in its tracks. 

Leon and I both looked up at the anthropomorphic duck in regal blue which waddled up beside us, brandishing a magic rod. "The calvary is here," it informed us grandly in a rather thick, duckish accent. Another barrage of missiles shot from the wand, pushing the feet back. 

A loud cry drew our attention away as the meteor that knocked me off the Heartless slammed into the ground before us. Unfolding itself, the meteor was in fact a dog of sorts, cradled inside a large shield it had used to break its fall. 

I recognized these two as Sora's two sidekicks, the King's men sent to aid the Keyblade Master in his quest. Cid had mentioned they were in town, didn't he? So this was the King's envoy that Leon was going on about... I wasn't surprised at all. 

"Goofy!" the duck scolded its companion. "What do ya think you're doing?" Or at least, that's what I think he said. 

"Aw shucks, Donald," the dog drawled, unfolding its long limbs to stand, rubbing its rear. "That thing is as hard as ... well, metal!" 

Leon pushed himself to his feet, clutching his arm and looking over the enemy. The gauntlets were still playing tag with Mogki, who seemed to be getting a little tired; the legs were still dazed, and even the torso was rocking confusedly, presumably from the attack. "I'll distract the legs." I turned to him, brow raised. "You three go after the body." 

I nodded without argument. Sweeping by the stunned feet, I yelled at the dog and duck to follow me. 

Skidding to a stop before the torso, I stared up at the floating form. Damn, it was pretty high. I wasn't eager to try doing a regular jump again, running start or not. I needed some sort of boost... 

The duck and dog joined me a moment later and I whirled on the fowl. "You! Donald, right? Draw its attention toward you. Try to get it to lower itself to the ground some more." 

Dismissing the keyblade, I took a few gauging steps back, mentally estimating the range. "And your name's Goofy, right? Get on your hands and knees." 

A running leap might get me to its neck, meaning I was short by a foot or so in reaching the head. All I needed was something to elevate me that extra foot... 

Goofy scratched his head in wonder. "Uh, sure..." He plopped down to his hands and knees, lanky back a wide platform open to me. "Like this?" 

I nodded, flashing him a quick smirk, before throwing a glare at the duck. "Well? Hurry up!" He didn't move, glaring back with narrowed eyes. 

"Uh... guys?" Goofy sounded a little worried as the body begin to stir, shaking itself. 

"Hmph." Donald turned away, flourishing his rod to spit fire. 

Wasting no time, I ran back some odd yards, turning to take a good look at the distance. I could do it. I had done it countless times in the forest and coves back on the island. My high jump was the envy of all the boys. Piece of cake. 

Coiling my leg muscles, I sprang to action, bursting into a dash and thudding headlong toward the bent dog. 

Donald's volley of magic had drawn the torso's attention, and it swung toward the two with frightening intent. It shifted and spun just as my shoe found the dog's back, but it was too late to change my course of flight. I ricocheted off Goofy as he collasped to the ground from the force, slingshotting at the body. 

I almost missed it, but caught a horn protruding from the side of its helm with flailing hands. Using my momentum, I swung myself around to drop down on a rim inside its collar, heart beating a mile a minute from the sheer thrill of it. The head swivelled to face me, throwing itself left and right in an effort to shake me again. I clung to its armour, cursing. A burst resounded below, followed by a bang, as Donald and Goofy engaged it from the ground. It swerved to avoid their attacks, forgetting about my presence momentarily. 

Calling forth Absolution, I kicked up the faceguard and we stared eye to eye, its great yellow eyes unblinking. Hollow and empty. Their glow had no warmth or life or awareness. A swift shot of empathy slid down my spine, and I wanted to fall into them, to maybe impart some sort of humanity to this creature's existence. 

Absolution throbbed. 

"You're free now," I told it, lifting the weapon. 

The keyblade slid easily into that empty void between the floating orbs, the pounding of the world's heart pulverizing my mind with its sheer volume. The Heartless quavered, armour rattling. It sagged, hanging like a rag doll, the golden orbs blinking once, twice. A black-white pinprick sparked in the hollow darkness from Absolution's unseen tip, flaring into a blinding fire. I pulled Absolution away, shielding my face and falling back, vaulting to the street. 

The dark-light held steady, shimmering, before exploding into shards of night and silver-white stars, the Heartless' glittering crystal heart swimming up to the clouds. Crumbling away in a myriad of violet sparks, the gauntlets and boots dissipated from existence. A cool breeze swept through the square, cleaning the air and carrying the sound of Leon's name. As the walls trapping us fell away, Yuffie, accompanied by another woman, ran up from outside. 

The ninja girl disregarded all of us in favor of Leon, who had shuffled over to retrieve his fallen blade. She fell on him with coos and mothering motions, exclaiming over his wound in the same way that Kairi would do on occasion when Sora would return scuffed and bruised from our sparring sessions. 

Shaking my head, I dusted myself off, only to be closely inspected by duck and dog. 

"Look, Donald," Goofy said with a silly grin, pointing at Absolution clutched loosely in my hand, "it's a key!" This seemed to be a major revelation for him. 

Not so for the duck, who gave me the evil eye. "I know that," was the condescending reply. I met his gaze evenly, recalling that I didn't much care for him when I first met him with Sora, and some feelings just didn't change. 

Goofy grabbed my free hand, pumping it energetically. "Pleased ta meetcha! I'm Goofy and this is--" 

The fowl elbowed him in the side. "Ahem. The King's Court Magician, Donald Duck." His chest puffed with importance. 

The other woman who had been with Yuffie approached us after speaking quietly with Leon, kind face set in a smile. "They are the King's envoy, sent to look for the wielder of the Keyblade," she said in a mellufious voice, soft-spoken and tempered with sweetness. "But you know this already." 

I nodded, working my hand free from Goofy's grip. Mogki crash-landed onto my shoulder, sighing loudly in exhaustion. 

"My name is Aeris," she continued, inclining her head slightly. "It is an honour to meet with the Keyblade Master." 

I slapped Goofy's hand away from Absolution, where it had been trying to curiously poke at the lucre blade. "I'm not the Keyblade Master you're looking for." 

Her smile widened, generous in its patience. "You mean the other one who was the Master in a time only you remember?" Her eyes watched me, infinitely older than her appearance. I shifted, a little unsettled by it. "Whether it be of the World, Heart, or Infinity, a Keyblade Master is a Keyblade Master." 

"Yup, you got the key, so you're a Master," Goofy broke in, shooting me a warm grin. I averted my eyes; it was the type of grin that Sora usually granted for encouragement. 

Shrugging, I sent Absolution into its dormant state around my wrist. "Look, let's just forget the formalities. You want to find your King, I'm looking for my friend, and we're both trying to stop the coming of the Heartless. Doing one means doing the others, so let's just go, okay?" 

Donald scowled at my curtness, but Goofy nodded, slapping me on the back with enthusiasm. 

Absently rubbing where Goofy smacked me, I glanced back at Leon, who was currently trying to dodge the efforts of Yuffie's nursing. I was still a little taken aback by his willingness to help me, and now felt a little guilty about the wound he got in the process... 

Aeris snagged onto my thought, putting a hand atop my head. "We're willing to do what's necessary to help the Keyblade Master. He'll be fine." She ruffled my hair, like a sister to a brother, and I stiffened. "However, your friend is still lost. There isn't much time to lose." 

I swung my head out from under her touch, stepping back and nodding in agreement. I turned to Donald and Goofy, not exactly thrilled about having them as companions, but there was little choice, as they had something I needed. 

"Where's your ship?" 

+++++++++ o/~ +++++++++ 

BGM 05: _jump_START_, Seven Nations 

.... well. Basic plot exposition is out of the way. Yay! 

First major battle sequence. My betas gave it a passing go and I rewrote it three times. I got so frustrated with it that it's as it stands right now. 

Hahahahaha.. damn, I must've gone through so many drafts for this chapter. It's my duty to try and bring you the best I can--this chapter had two false starts before I settled on this version, dumping about eight pages of work in the progress. x.x My problems with the previous versions were that they were too bland, too boring, and dragged in what was already a very slow chapter. While one version explored more into Riku and Leon's somewhat rivalry and touched upon Leon's backstory, it was just too slow in momentum for the start of a chapter. I hope to use the ideas in that version in a later chapter, though. x.x My betas are digging the Leon and Riku relationship (not the yaoi ^^;), and are nudging me to develop it. 

Originally, Aeris was supposed to be the one to take Riku to see Merlin, but Leon insisted on getting a bigger part than her. (As if he didn't star in his own game already. ::rolls eyes::) This was quite a last minute change, and that's another reason why writing this chapter was so tedious. Aeris would've been a good question feeder; Leon is a little more recalcitrant and so it was a little harder for the trio to fish information from Merlin. 

In all honesty, while Sword in the Stone was one of my favorite Disney films (I'm an Arthur whore), I don't have my copy any longer and I have a hard time remembering very much of Merlin's mannerisms beyond that he was a bit of a crackpot and liked anachronisms. As such, I apologize for any OOC-ness on his part. (He was very bland in the game, wasn't he?) 

The original BGM for this chapter was a piece from the opera Merlin, but again, it was changed last minute when I found the song to be a little too heavy-handed for what was meant to be a rather light-hearted bit. Instead, I chose a more Celtic overtone with a jig-sort of sound that reminds me a little of 'Higitus Figitus.' 

ZioN is the thing that conflicted so heavily with Final Mix, and was the part of the plot that almost made me quit writing. x.x But it's here now, and that's that. 

Thank you for ALL the reviews, both positive and criticizing--I love every one I get, from simple 'wow' to the huge essays, and they are always incredibly encouraging and make me feel squishy. (A note to Uzumaki-sama: I've seen bits of Spiral and wasn't really interested. ^^; If I head anywhere else in the anime fandom, it might more toward DNAngel or GetBackers.) 

While no one has complained about it yet, I won't apologize for the amount of time it takes me to pump out chapters (except that whole three month hiatus x.x). I work on Syn every day before I hit the hay, writing up pages in my notebook. For every ten pages I write, I discard three or four. It is my desire to bring you the highest quality of work that I can, especially since I love this fic and this coupling so much that I don't want to do it wrong. While yes, I can rush and get chapters out to you wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, I'd much prefer to give you a story that you would like to come back and read again. Between Syn, my drawing, and my other fandom(s), as well as the horrible thing known as Real Life (tm), this story is actually 'publishing' fairly quickly for what it is, I think. 

As such, I do appreciate that no one has complained about the slowness of the release of chapters, or even the more sedate pace I'm allowing my story to take. Thank you. I promise I'll continue to release chapters that represent the best of my ability. 

Finally, for any curious to see my interpretation of Riku's new duds, you can spot a rough sketch here: 

**valhalla.morethanart.org/syn**

Comments and criticism welcome. 


	7. Synonymy:06

**Title**: Synonymy:06  
**Author name**: Ruaki [valhalla.morethanart.org]  
**Author email**: ruakichanaol.com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingdm Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH AU

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the original secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! .

**Author's Note**: So, it's been over a year since I last updated. I can only apologize; I'm not really a writer, and I tend to go through 'phases' of writing dedication and art dedication. The arrow has swung back to writing again, so the Synonymy project has been taken up once more. 

Is this chapter worth the wait? I really can't say; it is a transitional chapter, as Riku-tachi reach a new world and encounter its mini-plot, so things might progress too slowly for something that took over a year to come out. I'll let the reader be the judge though; I can only hope it's enough to keep readers coming back--and not feel gypped. 

I will definitely say, with KH2 and KH:Chain of Memories both coming out soon, and with the details of their plots being leaked, that Synonymy won't be 'synonymous' with Nomura-san's ultimate vision. The canon-whore in me weeps, but that's okay! This is an AU after all--as such, please keep in mind that the story will soon divurge from the 'truths' revealed by the upcoming games--meaning, it might utterly and completely contradict with what's canon for the KH series. Unfortunately, I came up with this story a long time ago--I can't change the whole thing, but I'm just going to adjust what I can so it'll still match Nomura-san's story if able, but the rest of it will just be totally 'wrong.' I hope this won't deter you from reading, and that you'll still be able to enjoy this story I want to share with you. 

With that out of the way, thanks again to Aachan and Cuchi-chan for being mah beautiful betas. They rock. They really help polish this story and should definitely gain a lot of applause. 

There's now one 'official' cover artwork for Syn (if you haven't seen it yet), a link you'll find in the bottom notes, as well as an illustration for this chapter. I'm an artist at heart, so you'll probably be seeing more pictures as they come by. 

Speaking of which! Gifts for Syn, as well as a Syn!Riku cosplayer (who is really quite amazing O.o;)! Check it also out at the links below! 

And now, onto the story. 

======================= 

_I believe the future is only the past again, entered through another gate. **Sir Arthur Wing Pinero, [The Second Mrs. Tanqueray]**_

---------y-o-u--b-r-o-k-e--t-h-e--b-o-n-d-s--------- 

He tapped his knuckles softly against the window pane. Just past the distorting screen of glass, his Friend didn't even stir from His deep slumber, burrowed deep under motifed sheets. He tried again, a little louder and with more urgency. Sora shifted at the knock, nose twitching, and rolled onto His back with an inaudible snore. 

The beasts of the night began to slither up his back, wrapping long, sinuous bodies around his neck. He choked, panic nauseating him. Biting his lip, he grappled with the window panes, hoping and praying they were not locked. Desperation pumped adrenalin through his blood as the shadows kissed his ear with terrible whispers, and he dug his fingers deep into the slits between the wooden frame around the glass. 

The window slammed against the back wall with rebounding force, the glass rattling but not breaking. The night breeze sighed through the curtains, sweeping him inside. 

He landed on the soft bed in a tangle of limbs atop his stirring Friend, pressing Him into the mattress. Scrambling to the head of the bed, he slapped a hand over Sora's mouth just as the blue eyes snapped open. 

Predictably, there was much muffled screaming, followed by a short tussle as the two scuffled, tumbling to the floor. 

The sheets had knotted themselves about Sora's legs during the struggle, and so proved to be His undoing as the other boy quickly pinned Him, dropping his weight on His chest. 

"You won't take me alive!" Sora thrashed wildly. "Moooooooo--Riku?!" Blue eyes blinked wide, night darkening the colour into violet. 

He slapped a palm over Sora's mouth again lest He awaken someone, refusing to meet Sora's incredulous stare. 

What was he going to say? It had seemed like a good idea then, to come to Sora and let Him somehow make it better. But now that he was here... 

His hand slid off Sora's face. 

"What are ya doing here?" Sora asked him in a whisper that hardly qualified as quiet. 

"I..." He trailed off. He couldn't tell Sora he had one of those Nightmares again, the ones that left him drenched in sweat, paralyzed with fright, clutching his sheets with white-knuckled fists... 

"... couldn't sleep," he finished lamely. 

Sora pushed at him and he obediently rolled off the younger Boy. "You woke me up for _that_? Man!" His Friend worked His legs free of the blanket, flinging them on the bed. 

"Let's go to the treehouse," he suggested as the Boy stood. 

Sora stared down at him with another incredulous look. His nightclothes were rumbled and askew while His hair was even more shaggy than normal. He gave off the appearance of a tomcat recently awakened from a particularly restful nap. 

"You're already awake," he added hastily, leaning forward on his hands. "Let's just go." A pleading note entered his voice unbidden, but he was not ashamed of it right now. Even in Sora's room the night was alive, melting away familiar chaos into some terrible maelstrom of foreign, threatening shapes. 

Sora blinked, cocking His head. Dropping into a crouch, He peered at His friend closely. "Riku... what's wrong?" 

Had it been that obvious? He immediately retreated, sitting back on his heels. "Nothing's wrong." The words spilled out quickly, tumbling over each other. 

Sora stared at him a little longer and finally nodded, a small grin working its way onto His face. "Alright. Lemme get dressed." 

They had swiftly made their way through the bare streets, past sleeping storefronts and softly snoring trees. The ocean too was locked in slumber, waves lolling fitfully. Tying their dinghy to the dock, their feet passed over sand and wood like migrating swallows, pausing only when their destination had been reached. 

Sora flopped down inside the modest treehouse, yawning loudly. Paying Him no mind, he immediately turned toward the small trunk by the door, flipping open the lid deftly to search through the supplies within. He eventually emerged with a lantern and a set of matches, quickly lighting the former with the latter. 

The warm light did little to banish the shadows haunting the clubhouse. Instead, the flame gave them new, larger forms, strengthening them with claws and teeth. He shivered, biting his lip nervously. 

Sora suddenly jumped to His feet, startling him. "I have an idea!" The short Boy turned to him, smiling brightly. "Let's make a tent!" 

His brow furrowed, confused, but Sora was already pushing past him, flinging items out of the supply chest as His small body dipped lower and lower into the trunk. Triumphantly, He emerged with a length of rope. 

Sora gave one end to him. "Help Me tie this," He told His friend, indicating the branches jutting from the back wall of the treehouse. 

He nodded reluctantly, afraid of leaving the relatively questionable safety of the lantern's circle of light. But Sora was already smiling at him expectantly, making it near impossible to refuse. Cautiously, he shuffled to the back, waiting for a Nightmare to strike. 

Behind him, there was a scrape of wood against wood, and he glanced back. Sora was dragging the trunk over to the door, skinny arms straining to move the heavy furniture. He dropped it with a loud grunt, wiping His forehead. Noticing His audience, Sora shot a sheepish grin at the other. 

Quickly, he whirled away, throwing the rope's end about a gnarled bough. He kept his eyes focused on the task before him, ignoring the noises behind him or the stifling shadows to either side of him. His fingers, normally so nimble, fumbled about the knot clumsily. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart, and started over again. 

The shadows slowly swayed and then broke into a fevered jig, flicking in and out of his peripherial vision. Silent laughter pounded against the walls. 'Riku, Riku,' they giggled, spidery fingers slipping along his bare arms and ruffling his uncombed hair. 'You cannot hide from us! We are everywhere! Riku! Little Riku!' 

He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched to keep from screaming at the dancing demons. 

Soft fingers sought his and he jumped, eyes snapping open to meet a pair of curious ones. 

"Riku? Are you okay?" Sora was beside him, head tilted. 

He nodded dumbly. 

Surprisingly, the other Boy tugged the rope from his fingers without a word. Finishing the knot, He shot His friend another curious glance. 

He fidgeted under Sora's gaze, refusing to meet His eyes; instead, he let his attention wander to what Sora had done. 

The Boy had draped the rope from one side of the room to the other, the ends tied at the tree branch in the back and at a peg over the door. The lantern was hooked onto the line at the middle, causing the rope to sag heavily until the lamp was but a few feet from the floor. Somewhere, back in the logical part of his mind, he noted that this was a rather poor way to make a tent. He would have made so many improvements to it... 

Sora burst into motion, swooping down on a large piece of canvas piled on the ground. 

Flapping the cloth to shake out any dust, He swished the material over the rope at the middle, draping the ends equally over either side. Then Sora stretched the walls of the cloth outward, weighing them down with various items found on the floor. 

"Ta da!" He exclaimed proudly. "A tent!" 

The canvas mottled out the light substantially, withering the shadows back into obscurity. It did little to alleviate his fear; just because he could not see them did not mean they were not there. 

With a big grin, Sora motioned for him to enter. He darted for the light, crawling in. 

It was cramped inside as the lantern burned like a tiny sun boiling orange-yellow light right above him. He sat as close to the lamp as possible, its hot metal casing brushing the top of his head. It was a little better in here than out there; the proximity of the canvas walls hugged the firelight close, banishing all but the most fragmented of shadows. The open ends of the tent let the darkness peek in, but he kept his eyes focused on the light-christened cloth in front of him. 

Sora bounded into the tent not but a moment later, folding up beside His friend, still grinning. 

"Cool, huh?" 

He nodded slightly. 

"Riku?" The grin faded from Sora's voice. 

His eyes flicked to the wild-haired Boy, catching a glimpse of a shadow looming on the canvas behind Him. He almost jumped, but the shadow was Sora-shaped. Surely Sora's Shadow would be like Sora? 

"Riku?" Sora spoke again, leaning forward to put His face right up to the other's, big eyes inspecting. 

He recoiled. 

A hurt expression slid into Sora's eyes and twisted His lips into a frown. "What's wrong?" 

His throat worked. He had not meant to react like that toward Sora, his only Friend. "N-nothing." 

The expression on Sora's face blossomed and He folded His arms over His chest. "Liar." 

"Nothing's wrong!" The words came out too defensively, edged with nervousness and peppered with fright. He looked down at his hands, pale fingers twisting together. 

Sora remained quiet for a moment at the rebuff, chewing on a thumbnail. "We're friends." The Boy caught his hands, pulling them apart and holding them loosely. "I mean... when there's something wrong, we gotta help each other. Right? 'Cause that's what friends are for. We help each other. But... if yer not gonna tell Me what's wrong, I can't help you..." Sora's shoulders slumped. "I wanna help you..." 

He didn't speak. He couldn't say; Sora would laugh. Did he seriously expect Sora to be able to keep the shadows away? He was alone. 

"Riku..." 

"It's stupid," he whispered. "Forget it." 

Sora blinked. "I don't think you could ever do anything stupid." He grinned, bringing His face close, fingers clutching his hands close to His chest. "I mean, I do a lot of stupid things, so I'm an expert! Yer too cool." 

His gaze was locked in Sora's stare. Endless azure sky, filled with a myriad of brilliant stars. Pools of water that reflected his soul in skewed detail. Mysterious vortices which pulled the answer from the recesses of his locked mind. 

"I had a Nightmare." 

He waited for it. Maybe a snort or a snicker to start, before erupting into a crescendoing laugh. Sora would roll on the ground, clutching His stomach, and perhaps pause to wipe a tear from His eye. Then it would come, the derisive declaration of their broken friendship, because he was a big baby. 

Sora inhaled sharply, dropping his hands. He braced himself. 

"Wow, that really, really sucks." And then His arm slid about his shoulders, pulling him into an awkward hug. 

"Wha.. what are You doing?" The side of his face was mashed into Sora's shoulder, nose painfully grinding into bone. 

Sora remained oblivious to his discomfort. "Well... when I have a nightmare, Mom would give Me a hug. So.. I dunno, I thought... yanno..." The Boy sounded a little embarrassed. 

It wasn't unpleasant, he guessed after a measure. Sora's shirt smelled like sand and sea and Himself; it had been the same shirt He had worn earlier that day. The other Boy was clumsily patting his back with one hand and stroking his hair with the other; the repetitive motions lulled him into a sense of security amplified by Sora's heat. 

He shifted, pulling himself more fully into His embrace, arms uncertainly snaking around His torso. No, it wasn't unpleasant at all, he concluded with certainty as he buried his face in the crook of Sora's neck and shoulder and away from the leering shadows. The fey demons hissed and taunted, only to be slowly drowned out by the measured rhythm of Sora's breathing. 

Indeterminate minutes ticked by, time pausing to study the boys before drifting on. Then Sora moved a little, startling him. 

He pulled away quickly, if reluctantly. "Sorry." The apology was whispered with downcast eyes. He didn't want to seem like he was taking advantage of his Friend's pity. 

"Naw, it's all right. My leg just fell asleep." Sora stretched out the pained limb, stifling a yawn. "Wanna go back now?" 

He hesitantly shook his head. "Just a little longer." There was nothing for him at home but darkness and crushing silence. 

"Okay." Sora didn't seem offended, smacking His leg and banging it on the wooden floor. 

Staring at the lines in his palms, he realized he was being incredibly selfish to keep Sora like this. The Nightmares were terrible indeed, but he's handled them before. Alone in his strangely unfamiliar room, listening to his hoarse breaths and wondering which would be his last... knowing he could scream but while Nanna would come, she had no power over the darkness... watching, wide-eyed, waiting frantically for the rise of the sun... oh, this was why he loved the dawn so... 

He felt eyes on him, but it was not the hostile glare of the Nightmares. Sora had been staring at him for quite some time, the usually open face unreadable. The younger Boy smiled gently when their gazes met. 

"I know whatcha need," He declared triumphantly, holding out His hands. 

He stared at them blankly. They were held slightly apart, side by side, fingers curled about the air as if holding something. 

"...what..." 

"You need a mug of warm milk!" Sora chirped, pushing His hands closer. "That always helps Me." 

He didn't understand. "But Sora, there isn't--" 

"Pretend!" 

Blinking slowly, he took the proffered 'mug' from his Friend. "Okay..." Sora was still watching him expectantly, so he mocked a sip from the nonexistent 'mug.' He felt a little silly, but Sora's widening grin said He was pleased. 

"Now," Sora began, motioning for him to approach. "Come here and don't spill yer milk, 'cause I'm not making more." 

Sheepishly, he obeyed, mindful of the 'mug' as he crawled closer to Sora. The Boy frowned for a moment, scooting behind him and apologizing when He accidentally knocked the 'mug.' 

Not that it mattered, as he almost dropped 'it' when Sora pulled him close, his back pressed to the Other's chest. 

"Man," Sora grumbled, "why do ya hafta be taller than Me?" Sora's chin barely rested on his shoulder. 

Body stiff, he was afraid to move, wondering at this new embrace that put him in such proximity with his Friend. The gentle rise-and-fall of Sora's chest undulated against his back, one-two, one-two. There was a soft flutter of wings against his spine, the gentle pulsation of Sora's heart. 

Sora's arms snaked around the front of his stomach, hands mimicking the opening of a book. "And now it's time for a story," Sora said, voice echoing in his ear. 

He stared down. There wasn't a book there. Still, a small brown hand went through the motion of turning pages. In the end, perhaps it was best just to let Sora play His game. 

The Boy was doing it for him, after all. 

He smiled quietly at that thought, finally relaxing. 

"Uh... once upon a time," Sora started slowly, craning His neck. "Um... there was once a ... I dunno, a dog." 

A laugh bubbled from his belly and he bit his lip, trying to stifle it to spare Sora's feelings; but as the Boy continued to flounder in fabricating the fairy tale, the laugh threatened to froth over. 

"And... uh... one day, I guess... the princess' cat--argh, I mean, _dog_... uh.. hey! Are you laughing?" 

He shook his head quickly and pulled to the side to stare innocently at Sora with dancing eyes. 

"Yah, you _are_!" Sora snapped shut the 'book' and whacked him in the head with 'it.' ... or tried to, as there was no book to whack him with. 

That was the final straw. A snicker slipped out, breaking the dam, and soon his body shook with soft laughter. Sora's indignant pout only caused him to laugh harder, falling back against his Friend helplessly. 

Slowly, a grin split Sora's pout. "I told you I did stupid stuff." His friend could barely nod in agreement in between sniggers. Sora giggled, mimicking the motion of whacking His friend again. The other clutched his head in apparent wounding with a mock expression of hurt, and the two exchanged a single look before cracking up. The sweet rings of their shared laughter swept out of the tent and filled the treehouse, chasing away all thoughts of shadowy beasts and stalking Nightmares. 

The last chortle slid from his slender frame and he sagged, head bent, nose rubbing Sora's cheek. His eyes drooped shut in contentment, wondering how Sora could possess such an amazing ability to make everything better with just a few words or actions. 

"I guess yer not wanting a bedtime story, huh?" Sora's cheeks puffed out. 

He pulled away, shaking his head, and once again settled into his Sora-chair. Sora-chair. He grinned to himself. 

"Hm..." The deep sound of thought vibrated against his back, rattling inside Sora's skinny ribcage. 

Sora lifted His hands, the lantern's light casting a fiery halo along the chubby digits, caressing the joints and curves, highlighting a small scar here or a healing cut there. The nails were chewed upon, grimy, paler than the tanned flesh that surrounded them. They were so small, he noticed, but their shadows slanting against the canvas walls could hold an entire world in those elongated palms. 

One of the shadows bent double, opening and closing like a toothless jaw. Surprisingly, he was not afraid. Perhaps because it was Sora's Shadow, black and foreign, but shaped with warmth and sweetness. The other hand shadow joined the first, also bent in half. 

"Well, hullo Mr. Delacroix," Sora's breath whisked past his cheek, the brash contralto of His voice now a falsetto, high and ingratiating. "Your lazy good-for-nothing son didn't show for chores today! Daydreaming again, I bet!" 

The other shadow flapped its jaws, talking in too-deep baritone, slow and measured. "I'm really sorry, ma'am, I'll have a talking-to with him right away!" 

"You do that," the falsetto snorted, flopping away from the light. 

He turned his head a fraction toward Sora, amused and slightly amazed by how far his Friend was willing to go to please him. 

"Where is that boy?" The remaining hand made a big show of looking around. "Riku! Riku! Where is that no good lazy bum?" 

Embarrassed, he jabbed Sora in the stomach with his elbow, not wanting to participate in the puppet play. Sora 'oofed,' but the shadow persistently continued to search for Riku. 

Stifling a grin, he made a show of sighing loudly and rolling his eyes, casting his own puppet against the cloth stage. The two puppets met and interacted, and he soon warmed up to the play-acting. His shadow, joined with a cohort-in-crime named Sora, went on many great adventures over many lands, fighting monsters and rescuing damsels in distress, like in so many fairy tales. 

A rising sun smiled sweetly as she rose from her watery womb, finding the two boys, exhausted from their journey into make-believe, asleep in a make-shift tent, curled together as the lamp burned low. 

---------y-o-u--l-o-o-s-e-d--t-h-e--c-h-a-i-n-s--------- 

"Here it is!" 

"This?" 

"Yes, _this_!" 

"Ahyuck, isn't it neat?" 

"This." My voice was flat, laced with skepticism. 'This' was Goofy and Donald's ship, a modest orange and yellow number, which looked like randomly placed parts tacked haphazardly together to vaguely resemble a child's concept of a 'rocket.' 

"This," I repeated. "It looks like it'll barely fly, much less handle interstellar travel." I remembered Sora's enthusiasm about his 'cool rocket' and amusement tugged at my mouth. 

"No kiddin.' Yer gonna be able to get around the vicinity, but crossing systems of ether is gonna be a helluva frickin' job." Cid's voice floated from the other side of the ship. "Probably steers like a bloody cow too, shite... but I've seen damned worse." 

Donald's feathers puffed up in indignation, features twisting his perpetual scowl further. "Beggars can't be choosers!" 

"If ya gave me a couple of days," Cid continued, as if he hadn't heard Donald's outburst, "I could bloody hell get this piece of cockney'd junk up to freakin' par with a real bitchin' ship." His head reappeared from under a clunky wing, puffing at a cigarette. 

Goofy held Donald back as the duck exploded into a spasm of indignation and molting feathers. 

"We don't have a couple of days." I reached up and touched the smooth hull of the ship, chewing on my lower lip. Piece of junk or not, I was itching to get moving. Mogki shifted uncomfortably on my shoulder, sensing my impatience. 

Cid frowned at me. "Yer probably not gonna get very damned far, yanno." 

"That ship got us from the castle to here--" Donald was livid. 

"It'll get us far enough," I cut in. The ship served Sora well enough before. No reason for it to be any different now. 

The old man shrugged, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under the hell of his boot. "Huh, keep the damn comm lines open at least--if ya run into any frickin' problems, let me bloody well know." 

I nodded, rapping my knuckles against the hull. It rang clear like a bell. 

Goofy was still struggling with Donald, but he managed to direct a sincere smile at me. "Are ya ready?" 

Nodding again, I pulled Mogki off my shoulder and lowered it to the ground. I had the keyblade--that was all I needed. 

The moogle looked up at me forlornly, 'eyebrows' crinkling in confusion. '_Mogki not go?_' The pom-pom drooped. 

Leaning over, I ruffled the short, soft fur. "Sorry, kiddo." I really was. "I don't know what's going to happen... I can't protect you." Sure, Mogki had some fairly powerful abilities, but my stomach lurched at the thought of the ball of fluff getting into any more danger than necessary--like before. I couldn't protect it. I just couldn't. I had to stay alive long enough to find Sora. I couldn't risk myself for anyone else... 

'_Mogki can dance! Mogki taught by uncle, greatest moogle in kith! Mogki not get in way!_' Its chubby paws caught my fingers imploringly. 

Donald stomped by us in a huff, pounding up the gangplank without even a glance. "Hurry up!" 

Ignoring him, I gently extracted my hand from Mogki's. "Sorry." 

It kicked the grass, looking like an injured dog told not to dig in the trash. 

"And don't try to follow us." 

It waggled its nose at me angrily, whirling away. A headache started to ball behind my eyes; why didn't anyone do what I told them to do? I was doing it for their own good. Was this some sort of stigma marked upon me because of my sin...? ...I was so damned tired, mentally and physically exhausted... I could sleep for a thousand years and never find rest... 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, stifling a sigh. "I know what's best, Mogki--" 

The moogle fluttered up with a snort and darted erratically off, a drunken butterfly. 

Scowling, I stared after it, wondering when I got involved in some kind of twisted soap opera involving a moogle. Hell, why was I even bothering to justify myself to that blob of fur? After all, I was right. It'd just have to learn how to deal. 

I know what's best. 

Goofy clapped a hand on my shoulder, surprising me. "We better get goin'." 

Shrugging off his grip, I nodded. 

---------y-o-u--c-a-r-r-i-e-d--t-h-e--c-r-o-s-s--------- 

Soaring silently through stale air. 

Below, frothing, dark waters infested with phantasmagoric creatures.  
Above, listless clouds rolling and balling into angry thunderheads.  
Ahead, a plateau of black rock upon an island of decay. 

Sounds muffled, colours muted. 

Lips parted, exhaling spent breath. 

Lethargically tumbling, rolling, turning, alighting atop a wave.  
Surging forward, carried by hands of sea-foam. 

Crash. 

Water dripped, minute droplets of crystal tears.  
Refracted reflection, ten, twenty, a hundred. 

Standing atop black cinders on the ragged beach.  
Sand crackled. 

Offshore waters swelled, lowered, breathing.  
Wet tongues lapped at tumbled glass, at shoes. 

Precious familiarity balanced atop brine. 

Thin voice carried high, falling flat in thick air.  
Acknowledgement. Smiles. Frowns. 

Fear.  
Flight. 

Water droplets flickered, refracted reflection.  
A thousand flights, a thousand expressions of fright. 

Pain stabbed.  
Five digits reached out.  
Pleading.  
Unfamiliar hand.  
Black-stained.  
Clawed.  
Inhuman. 

Heartless. 

"Riku!" 

---------a-n-d--m-y--s-h-a-m-e--a-n-d--m-y--s-h-a-m-e--------- 

Misty fingers of my dream slid away from my mind as my surroundings became clearer; I struggled to catch them, sensing something important in something so elusive, but they slipped away, victims of tangible perceptions. 

Shaking my head, I stretched and knuckled my back, stifling a yawn. 

Only the echo of my name remained. 

I was fairly sure Sora was the one calling it. 

Donald's raucous voice drifted through the deck, followed by Goofy's slow, measured one. The two were up in the cockpit, arguing over something. Again. ... or more accurately, Donald was yelling at Goofy, while the latter listened good-naturedly. Ironically enough, this just served to piss the wizard off even more. 

I sighed. Those two weren't my preferred choice of companions. Cid, or even Leon, would've been far more useful and far less troublesome. However, Leon was injured and Cid flat-out refused to join us [_'It ain't my frickin' battle, kid'_], so I was stuck with a tempermental wizard and a happy-go-lucky knight as my bastions against the darkness. 

Well, if Sora could make do, then I supposed I could too... 

A crash rang from above as Donald's voice grew more heated. 

... that is, if I didn't kill the duck first. 

Another sigh escaped me as I leaned back against the bulkhead, propping an arm up on upraised knees. I felt as if I was running through a long, dark tunnel, chasing after the bright light at its very end, but never getting any closer to that blinding sweetness. From the beginning of my memories to the current events of _this_ reality, I had been running; running from myself, from the darkness, toward the light, toward Sora. And I still was running, with no destination in mind but the image of my own salvation. 

I sought out Sora's pendant, asking it for strength and patience. The worn surface offered no sympathy, its flat planes, chipped and chewed on, scinallating brilliantly even in the dim light. The colour of ores, pulled from the core of the earth, flickered in my eyes, catching my attention. No, it couldn't offer sympathy, because sympathy did not strengthen. Sympathy coddled and swaddled, softening the blows and hiding the reality. 

This pendant had lived through many trials, discoloured with the tarnish of age and adoration. It understood my plight, but it did not pity me. The three spires affixed to the base were a holy trinity, dulled by time, but still they maintained their edge. So that's how it should be with me, right? I might be beaten and dulled, but I could not lose my strength, my edge. My fingers caught the charm, running gloved tips over the spikes, the points barely biting the thick leather. 

I should not look for sympathy. Nor should I ask for outside strength. 

Rolling my wrist, I called to what strength remained in my heart; the pendant responded, swelling with black-white light and metamorphing into the Key of Worlds. 

Holding the hilt loosely, I twisted Absolution this way and that, admiring its gentle curves and otherworldly hue. Its inner fire drew me into its iridescent depths, phasing out my surroundings into an abstract painting of faded watercolour. Only Absolution existed. The hum of the ship's engines, the buzz of the dog-and-duck-duo's arguing, and the vacuuming silence of etherspace were all displaced by this musical beauty I was unworthy to bear. 

Yet, _this_ was to be my strength, the embodiment of the power of my belief in the power of Sora. 

With a flick of my wrist, Absolution disappeared into its silver cocoon, waiting to be born again. It was a keyblade too pure for me, yet it would be my arm against the encroaching darkness. 

Using the bulkhead for support, I slowly got to my feet, bones popping from stiffness. I didn't know how long I had been asleep, but my body was numb from sitting still too long. Rubbing my shoulders, I began with some simple warm-ups and calisthetics, urging my limbs to forget their fatigue. However, the rites were as familiar to me as my own face, so as my body moved into a vigorous automatic, my mind slipped into contemplation once more--namely, why was _I_ here? 

Merlin had ascertained that there had not been so much a jump in time, but a jump in... what? Reality? He spoke of streams in time, paths that existed or ceased to exist because of the decisions people made. Roads of reality which could not exist in parallel, yet somehow had the ability to cross at improbable moments in time. If this was true, then what Ansem did made an incredible amount of sense. Changing the past might've proved fruitless, because events might repeat even with precognition; creating a whole new 'reality' by diverting these 'streams in time' would ensure a stronger chance of success if situations were tightly controlled. 

Heh. It seemed as if I had accepted Ansem as the perpetrator behind this whole ordeal. Knuckles slammed into a hard surface as I brushed too close to the bulkhead while I shadowboxed. For all my denial, a deep part of me knew there could be no other antagonist. 

After all, this was a 'sequel' of sorts, wasn't it? It simply wouldn't do for the antagonist not to have his rematch. 

But what was the plan behind all of this? Merlin assured me that Ansem had made mistakes during this 'reality jump,' weakened from his near destruction--mistakes which had included me. I had come from one stream before swept into a wholly unrelated river against my will. Crossing 'realities' was the only reasonable way to explain why nothing was happening as I remembered. I couldn't believe that my memories had been tampered with; nor was the idea of everything occuring _again_ probable because no one else remembered previous events. History was obviously being rewritten, but I was the only one witnessing it. 

My brow furrowed and I frowned at my shadow matching my fist, shot for shot. Had it really been a mistake? I couldn't help but feel that there was something important I was overlooking here. And while Merlin said that reliving the past was fruitless, for no one ever made the same decision twice, how could Ansem hope to guarantee a victory just by simply changing 'realities'? 

_'I'm merely telling you that there are an infinite amount of possibilities in an infinite amount of universes.'_

Merlin's words nagged me. I knew Ansem to be far from stupid; madness did not equate stupidity. Had these so-called mistakes really been such? Or was this--was _I_--a necessity to some greater plan? 

I pushed my consciousness deep back into my memories, delving through yellowed photographs and sepia-stained pages to seek my last recollection of the 'before' and the first of the 'now.' 

The events were blurred, hazy. I knew the exact moment of my 'awakening' in the 'now' was my first sighting of the Heartless on the beaches of Destiny Island. But before that? 

Images overlaid one another in a crazed montage of a madman's self-portrait. Endless darkness. Hazy, cold light. Sora's smiling face. Thick, spinning sickness. Slowly closing doors. Blue and green and white and black. Crashing waves, cawing seagulls. A broken, bloodied body. Accusing gaze, frowning mouth. Kairi's silver tears. Crawling, whispering blackness, glowing eyes. The creak of an opening door. 

**[Is this the world of death?]**

I took a deep breath, focusing hard on the bulkhead and my dancing shadow. The air tasted thin and stale, but it cleared my mind somewhat. 

**[So only your heart was left behind...]**  
**[... in this dark side where stolen hearts are gathered.]**

_[... he won't... die, will he? He can't die!]_  
_[I won't let you die, Riku!]_

The shadow punched at me as I struck at it, before revelation knocked us both still. 

The 'before' was ZioN.  
The 'now' was an illness. 

ZioN still remained a hazy concept to me, more like a place I had read in some fantastical novel than a place I had been. Recollection was spotty at best, even during my retelling of my experiences to Leon, Cid, and Yuffie. It seemed as if most my knowledge of the place had been from what _he_ had told me than from experience. Most likely I had not been there long; at least, not long enough to instill viable memories of the place instead of textbook knowledge. 

The illness... 

Nightmares had plagued me vividly during that period. Right now, I couldn't recall what I had been doing before the onset of the sickness, as if time hadn't existed before then... 

Had this been when my consciousness was shot into this 'reality'? 

In ZioN, I had no body, but a form sustained by the memory in my heart... 

If Ansem and I were connected in the manner that Merlin had implied... then when Ansem jumped realities, I was probably pulled with him. 

But didn't 'I' exist already in this other stream? Surely two of 'me' couldn't exist at the same time, unless... 

The illness. 

That had to have been the point of impact, when I had collided with 'myself' in this time stream. That must've also been the trigger event which deviated the 'before' from the 'now,' because I certainly didn't remember it happening in the 'before.' 

I smirked bitterly as I resumed swatting the air. Ansem had definitely been smart, I'd grant him that. I suspected the return to the beginning of all the events rather than the middle had not been a mistake as Merlin had thought, but a calculated move from the start. I could only assume that, like myself, Ansem too retained his former memories. Now he would better be able to control the pawns on this chessboard, which included the two keyblade masters... 

Yet what did that actually _mean_? If he had pulled me from the other stream, intentionally or no, why was I _here_ on this ship, with Sora's former companions? Why was I not at Hollow Bastion with Maleficent? 

Did that mean that Sora... 

... that within Sora lay the 'true darkness'...? 

I slowed my pummelling of the air, arms falling to dangle limply at my sides as I stared at my own shadow. 

Not just any heart would do for Ansem. Willing hearts of darkness were bountiful, or so I had discovered during my own foray onto that left road, but hearts of true darkness, complete in their emptiness, aided by ZioN... No, that couldn't be Sora. 

Sora had saved the Kingdom.  
Before.  
Sora had denied Ansem.  
... before.  
Sora had opened the Door.  
.... ... before.  
Sora had...  
All ... before. 

I pulled my gaze slowly away from my shadow to stare out at the porthole by my side. The stars glimmered bright, streaks of lines as the gummi ship travelled with phenomenal speed through the ether. They gleamed with Absolution's fire, vivid with the pulse of life. Each a world, so far away, all oblivious to the fact that they were interconnected within the Kingdom's bosom and thus equally threatened by the disease which plagued her body. 

... I believed with every fiber of my being that Sora, unlike myself, would not turn to darkness. He was not blinded by petty insecurities, irrational jealousy, and recurring paranoia. He didn't have my mental instability and psychologically damaging childhood. He was as strong as I was weak. He was as pure as I was stained. He could never fall; he didn't 'before' and he wouldn't 'now.' 

And maybe that was why Ansem wanted Sora over me this time. Because Sora was a wildcard. 

His heart was stronger than mine. Stronger in light... and perhaps, in opposite, stronger in darkness. 

But Sora would never willingly turn to the darkness and so I was anxious over his safety. If he had indeed fallen into Maleficent's or Ansem's grasp and was adamant about opposing them... then he was useless. 

Disposable. 

And since his keyblade was with me... 

Powerless. 

I closed my eyes, helplessness twisting my insides. I had promised to forever protect him; once already I had steepled in the sin of my broken vow. If something happened to him now, then redemption would remain only a coveted fantasy. 

Opening my eyes, I glared at the passing starlight, frozen in space. Irritation suddenly seized me, fueled by frustration. Couldn't this ship go any faster? The stars were only strolling unhurriedly by, cold faces locked in derisive smirks and swelled with hollow red and white laughter. '_We are a million worlds_,' they chanted as they pranced about the ship. '_Any one of us could've captured your Sora._' 

I smashed a fist against the bubble of the portal, earning only a dull pain for my lash of anger. The stars continued to frolick, smiling spitefully at my inability to act. '_Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,_' they sang as they daisy-chained together. '_To which world did Sora go?_' 

"Please, tell me," I quietly pleaded, dignity flying out in the face of growing desperation. "Where is Sora?" 

'_We'll never teell..._' 

Snarling, I pounded my fist again and again against the porthole, shaking with rage. "You won't keep him from me forever! I'll destroy every one of you if I have to!" 

"Uh, Riku? Are you okay?" 

The cruel laughter of the stars screeched into silence at the intrusion, and I whirled around in surprise, fists raised defensively. 

Large, curious eyes blinked as Goofy's head poked down from a hatch above me, one hand smashing his hat to his skull. He tilted his head as an inquisitive canine would at my sudden, flustered silence. 

"Riku?" 

I covered my face with a hand, inhaling deeply. I had to keep it together; I couldn't let myself go mad just yet. Sora nor Kairi could afford me just falling to pieces like this. 

"I'm fine, Goofy," I finally assured him, wondering briefly if I was trying to convince Goofy or myself. 

"Well, shucks." The knight shot me a toothy grin, long ears swaying as he bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Maybe you'll feel even better when ya hear the good news!" 

A faint, tired smile of indulgence creased my face involuntarily. Goofy really did remind me of Sora at times. "So what's the big surprise?" 

"Well, we--" A white hand abruptly darted out to grab Goofy by the scruff of the neck. With a sharp jerk, the knight's head was yanked back into the hatch in mid-sentence, only to be immediately replaced by Donald's sour facade. I felt my indulgent mood dissipate at the wizard's customary scowl. 

"Just get up here!" he snapped at me curtly before withdrawing. A moment later, a rope ladder slithered down, imperiously commanding me to go up. 

I glared at the braided rungs. I really, really didn't like that duck. 

"Hurry up!" 

... Really, really, _really_ didn't like him. 

Growling under my breath, I climbed up onto the control deck, a cramped space stuffed full with strange, blinking equipment, which occasionally blipped or beeped in their foreign, electronic language. A wide screen and console covered nearly the entire front, currently empty except for the glowing letters scattered across it. Donald sat in a chair before the etherscreen, pounding away at the console. 

"So what's the big surprise?" I grumbled as I pulled myself onto the deck. 

"Well, look!" Lights spun as Goofy hauled me up the rest of the way, setting my feet firmly on the floor to face the etherscreen. His cheek pressed close to mine and his long snout pointed to the object which flickered onto the monitor. He waved a large hand enthusiastically at the glittering blue and green sphere floating in the empty reaches of space, looming large in our eyes. 

"The 'puter picked up a world on the radar," Donald informed me in a condescending tone, accompanied by an arch look. "We're now in orbit." 

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I was a trifle annoyed that they went to this world without my consent. I _was_ the leader after all. 

Donald's feathers ruffled, his brow furrowing at my questioning of his authority. I glared just as angrily back, refusing to back down from this bad-tempered, know-it-all, pint-sized piece of fowl. The air was thick with violence. 

"Well, you were kinda sleepin', Riku." Goofy, sweet, oblivious Goofy, looked between us innocently, speaking not to allay us, but because he felt it was the truth. "Thought it'd be kind of mean to wake ya an' all." 

Donald and I both turned away from each other in mutual dismissal, each accepting Goofy's reply at face-value. 

Obviously encouraged by our lack of killing each other, Goofy nodded knowingly. "Ahyuck, tell him what the 'puter found, Donald!" 

Donald harrumphed, swiveling around to face the etherscreen once more. Arching a brow at the two of us over his shoulder, he cleared his throat and assumed what I could only call a 'lecturing posture.' 

"The 'puter says it's some world called 'Graecia.' Big ol' cultural 'n trade center." Donald tapped some keys on the computer, bringing up a geological survey. "The central city-state is that one." He pointed to a large dot sitting on curving lines. "Athens. People from all over go there. Culture's not as advanced as _ours_, and they got some funny ideas about magic, but they're still pretty learned." 

I frowned, tuning out Donald's rambles as he began to talk about agriculture and economy. I didn't recall this as a world I had once visited in the 'before.' And unfortunately, my actual knowledge of the worlds in the Kingdom's leyline was extremely limited. Maleficent never felt the necessity to educate me, despite my inherent curiosity. I only knew that worlds in the leyline served as 'keyholes' to the Doors of the Kingdom... 

[_"There are many worlds, my dear, each and all with hearts and with doors to that heart... but only a certain few can open the path to the fragile vitals of the Kingdom of Hearts..."_] 

"Are the Heartless there yet?" I asked suddenly, breaking in on the discourse of the various pantheons of Graecia. 

Donald didn't much appreciate that, affixing me with a hard stare. "How am I supposed to know?" 

I rolled my eyes. "Knowing the history and culture of this world is well and good, but we're here to find keyholes and Heartless--not planning a vacation home." I gestured at the softly bripping console. "Can't it tell you something useful, like if the Heartless invaded yet or where its keyhole is?" 

Donald blustered, attempting to pin me with his dagger-eyed stare. "For _your_ information--" 

Goofy scratched his head, cutting in cheerfully. "Yanno, that's a pretty good idea, Riku." 

"Why, thank you, Sir Goofy," I replied mildly, but not before shooting Donald a viciously smug smirk. 

With the two-on-one odds, the wizard had no choice but to concede--albeit reluctantly and not without much grumbling. The tapping of the buttons on the console did little to smother the unflattering epithets he lathered on us both. 

Lights flickered over the etherscreen, tiny ants of text crawling over the looming image of the world we were currently orbiting. The words scrolled by fast, much too quick to be processed by human eye, and then the 'puter beeped loudly in a fairly negative tone. 

"Nope," Donald grumped, obviously crankier that we made him work for nothing. "Not a single spot of Heartless." 

"So it's completely clean..." I trailed off, resting my arms across the back of Donald's chair. The world seemed so bright and pristine this far away; its lands virgin and green. Completely untainted. Were the shadows to spread across the land, would they show up as points of black upon this living sphere like cancerous sores? "Nothing's there." 

"Yet," Donald added pessimistically. Our eyes met, and for once, our wills did not clash. 

Goofy's head swung between us both, as if trying to catch our thoughts. "Well, what're we gonna do?" 

What were the odds that Sora was on _this_ world? Impossible. Improbable. Unlikely. Highly doubtful. Astronomically unimaginable. 

And of the enemy? Ansem, possibly Maleficent? This world was clean, untouched by darkness. It might not even be an integral part of the leyline--and thus, not an active target for Ansem's plans. 

Logically, there should be no reason for us to stop here. 

Intuitively, something suggested we should. 

"Let's go," both Donald and I finally decided simultaneously. 

We glared at each other for claim of this final decision while Goofy clapped in excitement. 

---------y-o-u--k-n-o-w--i--b-e-l-i-e-v-e--i-t--------- 

I never had the chance to travel much when I had lived on Destiny Island. The islanders didn't have much use for the outside world beyond trade and tourism, finding such pursuits as travel and voyages to the beyond for the frivolous or the dreaming. People who dreamed didn't bring home the food nor the money, and so life was devoted to work and duty. Outsiders were greeted with cool welcome and hospitality--tourism paid bills, but the people certainly weren't encouraged to immigrate; and travelling merchants, such as my father, were regarded as bad blood who encouraged all sorts of immoral ideas. The near xenophobic atmosphere squashed nearly every desire for something more. Ambition was tempered, for the islanders were a practical people. 

Not for I. Wanderlust had seized me strong after my father disappeared, and even passing adventures to the outmost fringes of the archipelago had been unable to quench it. Rather, they had simply fueled the flames into a seemingly self-destructing bonfire. 

My desperate need to escape was only heightened by what I had felt to be the alienation of my only constant. Kairi's arrival to our islands several years ago had captured Sora's attention from nearly the moment he laid eyes on her; and while I had accepted her as a friend and as an addition to our group--which had included Sora's friends, Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie--Sora was still my _best_ friend--mine and mine alone. And he always chose me over Tidus or Wakka or Selphie, but with Kairi, his loyalties became torn and the one status quo of my life which I had enjoyed changed almost overnight. 

Even though I had eventually escaped, I never had a real chance to see the worlds I so often dreamed of. Perhaps then it had just been a need to be free, away from the cage of Destiny Island, away from the chains of my best friend, and away from the collar of the world's expectations of me as I aged from a child to an adult. I had been free, but I was too engrossed with the power which had come from my sudden freedom; I had become scared and went back to seeking the familiarity of the chains and cages. 

But now, passing through the stone column gates of this otherworld city, the wanderlust gripped me tightly again. Wonder and delight filled me, washing away my exhaustion and hunger. Athens, Donald had named this place. The 'puter had pinpointed the location of a keyhole somewhere around this area, but it wasn't until we landed did we realize just how large this city and her surrounding countryside was. Still, all of it was beautiful, a shining white city by the sea, crowned verdant green with the trees of summer. 

"Gawrsh, looks like there's gonna be a party or somethin'," Goofy drawled, head swivelling curiously as he stopped just under a pair of great arches. He scratched his scalp under his hat, no doubt feeling a little odd in his 'disguise.' To keep with the so-called 'world order,' Donald had cooked up a bit of fancy magic to hide the duo's rather anthromorphic qualities. Goofy now sported the sweet, freshly scrubbed face of a tall human youth, though he still had his buck teeth and, inexplicably, his dog ears. 

"Keep movin'," Donald hissed, shoving his hands into the small of Goofy's back. "Yer blockin' the road!" Donald had faired better in his own disguise, coming off as a pale, grumpy boy barely coming into adolescence--although he still maintained his thick, unintelligible accent. Supposedly he had also cast a spell to allow 'translation' of the local tongue, but it apparently didn't help his own speech impediment. 

Smiling obliviously, Goofy ambled on, the crowd parting for his lanky form as we trailed behind. 

Goofy was right though. The narrow roads were webbed with the signs of festivity; colourful buntings swept overhead as fluttering streams drifted like lazy feathers from open windows, falling on the heads of the revellers while they drank and sang under the late summer sun. The thick scents of familiar and foreign foods hazed the air, mingling with the smell of animals, trees, salt, and sweat. It was the scent of the country, the scent of the city, the scent of the ancient past in a modern present, wrapping together the people in their brightly dyed clothes and the houses of alabaster stone in a solid existence. It reminded me oddly of home, of the runs through the bazaar with Sora in the early mornings, pennies in hand to spend on treats or the odd item for our latest great plan. 

The sweet trilling of flutes lifted high as we passed several young dancers. I paused to watch a girl twirl and flutter with a tambourine while her companion played harmony on his pipes. A wistful smile touched me as I watched this girl--no older than I--lose herself in the rude, but simple and charming song. Kairi had a passion for dancing, especially dances of the butterfly or the swallow--wild dances with no particular pattern but the movement of the wind and the water and the soul. She would often dance alone, under the shades of the palms, soft limbs swaying with immature grace, and Sora would watch her for hours on end... 

But sometimes she would want a partner, and while Sora might've liked watching her, he certainly didn't want to dance himself. 

My smile grew fond. Bereft of her chosen partner, Kairi would turn to me instead. I didn't mind; in fact, I secretly enjoyed it, that wanton abandon of conscious thought in favor of the puppet strings of the song. Even the formal dances, with all their rigid rules, still had that release of will. As much as I loved to control, to be in control, I guess sometimes I just wanted to let go and not think about anything, not worry about anyone. So I never refused Kairi a dance. 

Either way, Sora and I got into many a tussle over whether or not dancing was for girls. His mom nearly whipped me for that nasty shiner I gave him that one time... Dancing became a rather touchy subject after that. 

The girl finished her dance with a flourish and the other spectators around me erupted into excited cheers. A few passed some change to her piper, a tip for a job well done. I pulled out the gold coins Cid had given me before we left Traverse Town, picking out a few of the smaller ones. 'Currency may damn well be different from world to bloody world,' he said, 'but shining gold is frickin' universal.' I handed them to the piper, hoping the old man was right--and received a smile in thanks. 

Feeling good, if a touch nostalgic, I turned and nearly trampled over Donald, who was once again affixing me with the Evil Eye. 

"Stop wasting our money!" the magician scolded. 

I firmly spun him around by the shoulders and nudged him along. "Well, I was thinking... We could always sell you to a butcher shop if we're just _that_ strapped for cash." 

"I'm not no eatin' duck, if that's what yer tryin' to say--" 

"Hey-hey," I shot him my most winsome smile as I cut off his diatribe. "Where's Goofy?" 

Donald glowered, angered further by my inattention to his eternal temper tantrum. "He's right there, you numskull!" 

"Right where?" 

"There!" He pointed. 

I duly noted the absence of Goofy at the spot Donald was indicating. "Are you sure?" 

"Yah, I'm sure, you dummy!" Donald transferred his glower to the place Goofy was not. "He's right--huh?!" 

"Oh good, I thought I was going blind." 

Donald stomped a foot, arms crossing over his spindly chest. "I told him to stay right there!" 

"Don't worry, he couldn't have gone far," I said, rising to the tips of my toes to look over the heads of the Graecian natives. A six-foot tall boy in 'foreign' clothing couldn't be that hard to spot, right? 

"If ya hadn't wandered off, we wouldn't be in this mess!" Donald jumped up and down in an effort to see over the crowd. 

I ignored that, concentrating on finding Goofy instead. I was getting pretty good at this ignoring-Donald thing, if I did say so myself. Now for the matter at hand... if I were a simple-minded, canine knight, where would I go? 

To my left, the mass of people parted, and the lanky form of our wayward companion straightened before a cart laden with breads, pies, and fruits. 

"There he is," I pointed out to Donald. "Looks like he's buying lunch." 

"_Buying_?!" Donald squawked. I could almost see him puffing up. 

I shielded my eyes from the bright sun, squinting in Goofy's direction. "Yeah, buying. A lot, apparently." 

"I gave him all our money!" 

Realization slowly but finally dawned, and I stared haplessly at the magician. "What?" Goofy was such a naive, guileless creature--like a child, really. And what child had any concept of the limitations of money, that it didn't grow on trees or fell from the sky? "_Why_?" 

Donald actually blushed in embarrassment, although his glare was as blistering as ever. "Cause all my pockets were full!" 

Eye twitching, I resisted the urge to retort some biting comment. No need to resort to unnecessary roughness, oh no... Got to resolve the current problem first. I lifted my head to shout at Goofy, but too late. The knight was already threading his way toward us, waving enthusiastically with cheese in mouth and foodstuffs in arm. The merchant behind him grinned quite happily over what had been our travelling funds. 

A string of fierce curses crackled the air as Donald hopped up and down in indignation. 

"Well," I began lightly in an effort to look on the bright side, "at least we won't go hungry." 

Of _course_ Goofy had to run into someone a moment after I spoke. Of _course_ Goofy, with his gangling, too long limbs, would somehow manage to swerve into someone not even in his path and send all his purchases flying as they both tumbled to the rocks with a clatter. 

I groaned, facepalming as Donald let fly a new barrage of swears. He was pretty good at that, I had to admit. Perfectly captured the feeling of the moment. 

The other man, girdled and kilted, immediately rolled to his feet, his face a thundercloud. The front of his bronze cuirass was smeared with custard and sugar, staining the pale blue cape crossing his front. He was obviously a man of some eminence, intolerant of the faults of seemingly lesser men. 

"You cretin!" the man snarled, meaty hands clenching into fists. "Look what you have done, you clumsy barbarian!" 

Like a turtle righting itself, Goofy managed to get to his feet, apologizing sheepishly. The man was hardly swayed by the apology, so Goofy floundered for a bit before he spotted the fallen food being trampled underfoot. Swooping, the knight saved a fig from destruction, buffing it on his sleeve before holding it out as a peace offering. 

"Oh, phooey," Donald muttered beside me. I glanced down at him and was somewhat taken aback by the sudden, protective expression on his face. Without another word, he shoved his way through the throng toward Goofy and the belligerent warrior. 

A circle of onlookers was steadily forming around the two as the the air grew thick with tension, like buzzards over a dying man. The man just gazed incredulously at Goofy and his pitiful offering, before violently knocking the fruit from Goofy's hand. A duo of like-dressed warriors joined their friend in the circle, holding their spears easily, but in that ready-to-strike manner of the pugnacious. Goofy, oblivious to his danger, just stared at his empty fingers, bewildered by the man's rudeness. 

I scowled. I knew this man's type--your archtypical bully, all muscle and intimidation, inflated by an ego large enough to make up for more important shortcomings, supported by a set of stooges with nothing better to do than to reassert their so-called power over the helpless and the weak. This was definitely going to end in a fight. I began to push my way toward them. 

"Look, boy," I could hear the man saying with a sneer, "this armour once belonged to the great Perseus, among the most famous of heroes, whom my father's father bested in combat!" His yes-men whooped and roared, young dogs barking. "And you see this cape? It was spun from the hairs of the Sirens, the expedition from which only I survived for my great cleverness! You cannot just find these relics in any old shop!" 

Donald's voice spoke up next, before Goofy could even frame another apology. "Then maybe ya should take better care of 'em." 

I finally popped into the ring behind the man and his yes-men, unnoticed. 

The man's face twisted into an arrogant jeer, lip curling in disdain as he regarded the new, short opponent before him. "And who in Hades do you think you are, imbecile?" 

Hades...? 

"_Imbecile_?" Donald's voice pitched a note. "Listen, ya stupid tin can in a skirt, I can take ya on, with one hand tied behind my back!" 

There was the rough scrape of iron as the man drew his sword, a wide blade with a short hilt, perfect for close combat. Two spears immediately lowered in unison at the duo, bronze tips gleaming lazily. I tensed, ready to move at the first sign of trouble. Goofy ducked behind Donald at the sight of naked weapons, but the magician only glared archly, daring the men to strike. 

The warrior didn't hesitate, taking up the challenge with a glimmering overhand attack, the sword's honed blade falling like a viper's head. Sparks flew as the sword met a shield with a teeth-shattering clang; the blow that would've cleaved Donald in half was evenly blocked by Goofy's own weapon--a large round shield emblazoned with his King's crest. It was a strange weapon, but having seen its use firsthand in that time 'before,' I knew it to be quite effective. Somehow, it fit the gentle demeanor of Goofy; a knight who did not kill, but protected. 

Donald, who didn't even reel from the blow, smirked, pulling down an eyelid and flashing his tongue at the man in a taunt, smug in his knowledge that he had known Goofy would've protected him from any strike. 

Goofy just gazed at the man with his large eyes, seemingly unmoved by the man's act of violence. He very casually pushed aside the sword, but the shield still remained in place before Donald. "I'm really sorry about what happened," the knight explained amicably as the man stared, dumbfounded. "But I can't let ya go and hurt my friends." 

The whisper of 'hoplite' rose up from the crowd and the man's lackeys wavered in their bravado. Sensing an opportunity, I tapped the one closest to me on the shoulder. When he turned, I introduced my knuckles to his nose; he didn't have time to react, and there was the soft crunch of cartilege shattering under the blow. Blood spurted and his eyes crossed; I caught him before he could clatter to the ground, laying him flat. His friend spotted the movement from the corner of his eye however, and half-turned, but I quickly snagged the fallen one's spear, smashing the butt into the side of the other's knee. 

He buckled, but before he could cry out, I spun the shaft, driving the end straight up to smash into his chin, clacking his teeth shut. A strangled sound emanated from his throat as his face went blank. Swiftly, I laid him down beside his friend. 

Meanwhile, Donald had continued his taunts toward the leader to the point of infuriation; several times the man moved to strike the mage with his blade, but each stroke was steadily met by Goofy's shield. The crowd, riveted by Goofy's skills, began to talk loudly, watching their own christened 'hoplite' defend against attack without striking once himself. 

However, those probing attacks were growing more and more serious, as the man's face grew redder and redder. The crowd seemed to have been turned against him because of Goofy's 'hoplite' status, whatever that was, and he was unable to get a single stab past the barrier of Goofy's shield. Smirking, Donald grew ever more vicious in his catcalls, finally driving the man past any reason. With a snarl, the man lunged forward, driving his blade deep. Donald yelped, retreating away from the hot sparks which showered over him as Goofy turned aside the sword with the curve of his shield. The magician quickly scuttled to the safety of Goofy's back, and so began a merry chase as the man ignored Goofy in favour of the wizard, looking for the weak element as he himself was simply not strong enough to face the knight head-on. Donald aptly clung close to Goofy's back, while the knight faithfully followed and blocked the sword thrusts each and every time. 

I leaned on the spear from where I stood, watching the trio turn circles around each other with some bemusement. They seemed to be doing well enough without my help. 

"Hey, that's not half bad for a pretty boy!" 

My ears pricked and I glanced to the side with a raised brow. A blond man jumped up and down from the innards of the crowd, waving his hands enthusiastically as he did so. He disappeared for a moment, and I could see the crowd swelling and contracting as he plowed his way through, before squeezing to the front line. 

He was tall and handsome, probably somewhere in his late twenties. His hair, golden and long, was tied back from his friendly face with a bow and entwined with ribbons. Although his clothes were lustrous and colourful, they were obviously of foreign make. He stood out from the natives as much as we did. His armour was somewhat similar to others I've seen--greaves on his limbs and a leather cuirass encasing his chest--but he wore no visible sword. Beaming with an almost disturbing brightness, he approached me with a rolling gait, hitching up a large, barreled crossbow of sorts on his shoulder by its thick leather strap. 

My head pointedly swung back to where my companions continued to play 'keep away' from their angry pursuer. Unfortunately, the blond didn't quite catch the hint, stopping beside me and stooping to admire my handiwork. I watched him from the corner of my eye. Everything about him seemed to scream 'fop,' but his hands were too calloused to belong to a rich blueblood and his bearing too much like a man trained not to flinch at the sight of blood. My hold on the spear tightened. Up close, that crossbow looked like a monster, with heavy arms and a large barrel lined with many bolts. 

Clicking his tongue, the blond rose to his feet, his green cape settling about his ankles. "Are you participating in the Games?" His voice was liquid, easy on the ears--a born orator. 

I kept up the show of outwardly watching Goofy and Donald, but my grip on the spear did not lessen. "No." 

"Well, well, well, _this_ must be my lucky day!" Rubbing his hands together, the blond continued brightly, "See, I happen to be looking for someone like you to help me out." 

"Not interested." The squabbling trio were circling their way toward me. I shifted position slightly, resting my weight on the tips of my feet. That chase had been dwadling in that stalemate long enough and I wanted to be on our way. 

"Oh, you're so _cold_," the blond mock-pouted, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes, dark lapis stones, glittered. "I haven't even made my proposal yet." 

"Sorry, I'm not the marrying type." 

"Oh no, no, no, that's not what I meant!" The blond laughed, waving his hands in a placating gesture. "Goodness, you're certainly an unfriendly one, aren't you? And for one so young. I know a great way to get rid of all that extra aggression." 

"... Now I'm really not interested. So get out of my way." I roughly elbowed past the blond, darting toward my companions. Just as Donald's pursuer charged once again, I slid the butt of my spear at his feet, tangling his legs up along the shaft. He teetered uncontrollably, his sword slipping from his fingers, and I yanked the polearm away as he fell on his back with a loud clang. I kicked the blade to the far side of our impromptu ring, driving the spear downward to prick at his skin, just under his jaw. His head half-raised to stare at me with winded shock, his nostrils white with rage, his face slick with sweat. Blood beaded from where the sharp spearhead bit at throat. 

I smiled at him and a faint blue-tinge of fear rimmed his eyes. My smile wasn't nice. "That 'hoplite' friend of mine might have qualms about killing. I don't." 

Slowly, the man's head lowered back to the stones, his muscles unclenching. 

"Nice to see we understand each other." 

Goofy peeked out from behind his shield when he realized the attacks had stopped. "Riku?" 

"What do ya think yer doin'?" Donald popped out from behind the knight, arms flapping. "We weren't finished with him!" 

"You are now." I carefully pulled the spear from the man's throat, flipping it around to nudge him with the haft. "You. Get lost." 

The man hesitated, his wounded pride sparking in his face as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. I saw his eyes flicker toward his faraway sword and smirked. Stepping back, I once again leaned against the shaft of my polearm. 

"Go ahead," I told him, nodding toward his blade, still smirking. "You can have a nice nap with your friends over there." 

Startled by my words, his head jerked toward where his two companions lay, eyes widening at the sight of them sprawled unconscious on the ground, one with a bleeding face and the other with a leg bent askew. With a curse, he scrambled to his feet and bolted for the perimeter of the ring, shoving people aside as he left with the tattered remains of his pride. 

"And stay lost, ya sorry nincompoop!" Donald shouted gleefully after him, hands cupped around his mouth. He stuck out his tongue one more time as the crowd swallowed the antagonist, and then smirked while dusting off his hands for a job well done. 

The spectators erupted into loud bursts of excited conversation, and I felt that perhaps this would be a good time to make our exit. I wasn't sure about the authorities in this place, but I wasn't going to be any help to Sora or Kairi if I was rotting away in a jail cell. Tossing aside the spear, I drew Goofy and Donald aside, people parting automatically to let us through. Several people reached out to touch Goofy's shield in admiration, and he flushed in shy embarrassment, scooting closer to me. Donald, however, ate up all the attention, waving his hands in dismissal at the awed stares or bowing with a flourish to compliments shot our way. 

"Didja see that?" Donald sniffed disdainfully as we finally escaped the confines of the crowd, following the snaking road deeper into town. "Ha! My nephews could've taken 'em, what a 'warrior'!" 

"Well, I dunno, Donald, he was pretty good..." Goofy began slowly. 

"Ha!" Donald tossed his head. "I coulda toasted him any time. And I was gonna do it too, if, yanno, Mr. Show-off here didn't interrupt." That earned me a sidelong look. 

My eye twitched. Exactly _who_ had been showing off here? That little display with Donald staring down the belligerent warrior in challenge, only to be saved by Goofy, was certainly a pretty little bit of melodrama. I took a deep breath, willing myself not to take Donald's bait. "Whatever. We still have our original problem, though." 

Donald's look immediately swung toward Goofy. The knight blinked. 

"The only money we have left is what's in my pocket," I continued. "We don't have enough funds to buy supplies for our travels. We'll have to head back to Traverse Town." 

Goofy's stomach rumbled and he clapped his hands over his belly. "Sorry, guys..." 

"Excuse me." 

Donald and I turned, both of us looking irritated at the intrusion. The unwanted guest's charming smile faltered, taken aback by the two pairs of black glares aimed at him. 

"Er..." 

I scowled even darker. It was the blond from before. "You again?" I turned away, pushing the other two onward. "Persistent, aren't you?" 

He hurried to catch up with us, eyes sparkling. "Well, I couldn't help but overhear about your financial troubles..." 

The barmaid set down platters loaded with oily fish and hard cheese, steaming pies and crusty bread. Goofy's eyes grew larger with each portion, and when the last plate was lowered to the table, he quickly pulled a hankerchief out from a pocket and tucked it under his chin. With a bright smile, he eagerly reached out for the food, piling it high on his platter like a man--or dog--half-starved. 

"Slow down," the blond laughed as the tower of fish and grapes and pastries threatened to tip over. "Nothing's going to walk away." 

Donald, who was suspicious of our unexpected benefactor, had refused to touch the food and drink initially. Yet, as loaves of wheat and plump kebabs disappeared into Goofy's gullet, the magician's hunger overcame any reservations he might have had about the blond man's hospitality. He dived in after the food, growling at Goofy whenever the knight's hand strayed too close to some tidbit the duck desired. The table quickly degenerated into a warzone, with Donald forcing Goofy into retreat. 

I just watched the blond. Experience with the world had shown me that no one ever did anything for free; altruism was an ideal, not a principle. The man had already expressed the need for 'somebody like me,' possibly for these 'Games' he had mentioned previously. Until I knew what he wanted, I didn't want to get comfortable--or be in his debt. 

He caught my wary stare, setting down the goblet of retsina he had been nursing. Out came that charming, courtier's smile. "The name's Gerad." 

"Riku." I nodded curtly at the King's duo. "Donald, Goofy." 

That smile widened at the corners. "You don't trust me very much, do you?" 

"Haven't given me much of a reason otherwise, really." 

"Fair enough," he chuckled to himself, shaking his head, "although no one's ever complained about my company before. I'll get right to the point, just for you." 

"I'm touched." 

He chuckled again before his smile slowly faded away, growing thoughtful, even serious. The mark of a heavy burden touched his eyes, and for a moment, I sensed a certain kinship with this stranger. 

"Every year there is a great festival, the Panathenaea, held in this city. To give glory to their gods, the people hold a set of events known as the Games--demonstrations of skill and strength." Gerad rested his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. "People from all over participate in the highly respected 'Tournament of Arms.' Besides the glory, the winners receive a large monetary compensation." 

"Winners?" 

He nodded. "Unfortunately for me, the Tournament requires entrants to be in teams of three. I am a foreigner--a 'barbarian' in local terms--so no one is willing to aid me, and other foreigners interested in the Tournament have already come to Athens with teams of their own." 

I leaned back in my chair, toying with an olive as I studied him carefully. He _seemed_ sincere enough. "What's to stop us from just entering ourselves and cutting you totally out of the deal?" 

"Because you need me," he replied simply. "Your companion there--" he waved a hand at Donald, "--is too young to enter the Tournament. You'll be turned away at the registry." 

"Who? What?" Donald looked up at the gesture, spraying crumbs as he spoke. "I'm not young! I'm nearly sevent--" My foot came down hard on his and he squawked, nearly choking on his food. 

"So what's your stake in this?" I asked, fending off Donald's attacks with one hand. "Just why do you need that money so badly?" 

"I assure you, my motives are not evil. Who doesn't dream of having riches beyond his imagination?" His smile was a touch artful. 

I gazed at him suspiciously while absently headlocking the noisy wizard. "... Your reasons are your own, I guess." I paused, adjusting my grip on Donald. "Okay, let's say we help you win this Tournament. What's our cut?" 

Donald suddenly stopped his struggles. "Tournament? What?" 

Gerad held up four fingers. "Forty-five percent." 

I shot him a flat look. "There's two of us to your one. We'll be risking more of our skins here than you are." 

"Hey! Hey! Hey! What tournament? Hey!" Donald squirmed, digging his nails into my arm. 

I tightened my hold. "Sssh, Donald, the grown-ups are having an adult conversation." 

"I'll grown-up a fireball right up yer tail!" Donald kicked at me under the table. "We don't have time for games, Riku!" 

I could feel my eye twitching again. "Give me a second," I told Gerad, who was watching us with amusement. Getting to my feet, I dragged the wizard along, heading toward the back of the little tavern Gerad had taken us too. 

Goofy grabbed some pastries and trailed along behind us, confused. "Are we leavin'?" 

"Not yet." 

"Leggo! Leggo!" Donald struggled as laughably as Sora used to against my superior strength, attracting the attention of the other patrons as we passed. For a little guy, he was annoyingly persistent, clawing and kicking and screaming like a five-year-old. Finally, we reached an isolated corner and I shoved him free, whirling him around to face me. 

"Who do ya think ya are, manhandling me like that?" Donald demanded heatedly, hands on hips. "I'm the King's Court Magician! If ya weren't the Keyblade Master, I'd blow ya to smither--" Irritated, I pinched his lips together tightly, and he swallowed the rest of his threat with a surprised expression. 

"Listen." 

He continued to curse and howl at the back of his throat, any form of words stifled by my fingers. I waited him out with a flat look, and eventually he stopped, glaring. 

"Look, Donald," I began as calmly as I could, "we need the money. We'll lose too much time going back to Traverse Town." Slowly, I released him, ready to shut him up again if he became belligerent. 

His glare was as strong as ever, but at least he wasn't screaming at me. "And we're gonna lose time goofing around in some tournament. At least if we go back, we can restock supplies without paying any money. Besides, that guy is a _stranger_. He could be working for the other side." 

"He doesn't seem strange," Goofy spoke up with a smile. "I like him." 

I waved for Goofy to be quiet. "Donald, while Goofy and I are in this tournament, you can look for the keyhole." I crouched down to be level with him. "The 'puter said it was somewhere around here, right? There are no Heartless now, but I think there might be later. That buffoon you got into a fight with earlier mentioned a 'Hades.'" 

"So?" Donald looked sullen. It was hard to rant and rave against reasonable logic without seeming like a fool. He had no choice but to listen. 

"There was a Hades among Maleficent's co-conspirators in that 'before.' If this is his world, we can guarantee that the Heartless will not only come, but that this world's keyhole is very, very important." 

Donald's face grew even more sulky. I sensed my victory and shot him a relieved look. "We can kill two birds with one stone this way." 

"I still don't trust that guy." 

I grinned, straightening. "You don't have to trust him. He's just a means to an end." 

"Hmph." The wizard tossed his head and crossed his arms over his chest, but put up no further arguments. 

Score one for me. I wondered how Sora even managed the antagonistic duck in the 'before,' considering how bad he was at winning arguments. 

But then, Sora probably won by sheer stubbornness, especially if he wanted something badly enough. 

Gerad flashed us a questioning look as we returned to the table. His concerned expression came off a little more desperate than he probably intended, which only confirmed that he needed us much more than we needed him. 

"I believe we were discussing the _gross overestimation_ of your participation in these fights," I said coolly when I relaxed into my chair, plucking a grape from a cluster. "Forty-five for two is a load of bullcrap no matter how much you try to hide it." 

Gerad's answering grin was bright and relieved. Continuation of negotiations could only mean we were still interested in his deal. "Honestly, I'll be doing most of the work. You're simply there to fulfill the need for numbers and to not get disqualified." He patted the heavy crossbow-machine sitting on the chair beside him. "I'll be doing the work of at least ten men. Ranks of opponents will be decimated with just a twitch of my finger." 

I eyed the modified weapon. "What is it?" 

Gerad's look was one of loving pride. "I call it the 'auto-crossbow.' It's my own invention. I can shoot off seven bolts in about a second and the reload only takes another half-second more. The penetrating power is three times that of a standard crossbrow and accuracy can be maintained for up to five hundred paces--although the bolts can be shot much, much further than that. Isn't it beautiful?" 

"Geezus..." 

"I seem to get that reaction a lot." He smiled, picking up his goblet. "So you see, forty-five percent isn't a bad piece of the share, when all you have to do is stand there and look pretty." 

"You're in no position to be using 'pretty' as an insult." 

Gerad laughed. "It wasn't meant to be." 

"... right." I chewed on the grape slowly, considering. "Fine. We'll take the forty-five. But," and I held up a finger, "you pay for our room and board, any other extraneous fees, and a sword for me." Gerad raised a brow over the rim of his goblet at that final request and I flashed him an artful smile of my own. "I'll be much more impressive with a sword than my fists." 

There was a momentary pause, before the goblet slammed down to the table, revealing Gerad's broad grin. "Ho, you make a good bargain, Riku. I'll accept your terms... partner." He held out a hand. 

"Don't call me that." Nonetheless, I clasped his hand and we shook, Sora's pendant jingling. 

"You are so _cold_!" 

I shrugged, reaching for a sesame bread ring. "No one's perfect." 

---------b-u-t--i--s-t-i-l-l--h-a-v-e-n-'-t--f-o-u-n-d--------- 

"And your third member's name?" 

"Riku." 

I shoved past Gerad, dropping a hand down over the registry. "Actually, it's 'Delacroix.'" 

The old scribe squinted myopically at me over the rim of his spectacles, his yellow beard twitching like a dying animal as he gummed his lips. "Very well," he croaked, shooing my hand away and touching the tip of his charcoal stick to the vellum. "Day-la-kroi." 

Gerad glanced at me questioningly and I just shook my head. I didn't want to go by my real name. There was no way of telling if Ansem was working with Maleficent again--or how much he might've told her about the 'before' or me. No need to inform anyone--especially the enemy--of my presence here. I doubt Ansem knew my surname, so it seemed a safe enough alias. 

"And now for the entry fee. There is a slight surcharge involved, for you are registering late..." 

I stepped away to let Gerad finish our registration, glancing casually around at what was to become my 'home' for the next few days. The Coliseum was atop a huge acropolis overlooking the city and the diamond sea beyond. It shared the hilltop with a massive temple known as the Parthenon, the focus of the Panathenaic Festival. The temple was graceful in its construction, shining white and holy; Gerad had warned me that no 'barbarian' was allowed near its hallowed grounds. 

But the Coliseum was no less a piece of beauty; it was not graceful like its sister, but magnificent with its enormous columns and multi-tiered arches. Instead of just sitting, it loomed like a great gargoyle, wings furled with its eye on the city. The massive gates had huge, embossed doors flanked by giants of bronze locked in eternal battle with each other, and beyond lay the courtyard, paved and lined with torches around its perimeter. Behind was a forest of columns, which encircled the open amphitheater where the Tournament of Arms was to take place. 

Goofy and Donald were seated upon the marble steps leading toward the inner Coliseum. It looked like Donald was scolding Goofy over some minute offense again; I opted to steer clear of them for now, not in the mood to deal with the tempestuous wizard. 

Along the walls supporting the gates, several workmen were busy pinning up long pennons. Closer inspection revealed that these pennons listed each and every team entered into the tournament, as well as nationality and betting odds. I smirked, scanning the lists; it seemed that the locals tended to be the favorites among the bookies. 

The way Gerad had explained it, the teams were to be divided into divisions. Entrants would not fight each other just yet; the first day would be spent weeding out the weak, either through feats of skill or battles against beasts. The losers would be sent home and the winners would then face each other for ranking in the _real_ contest--an elevation-elimination style tourney, until one team emerged victorious. 

Death, Gerad had mentioned, was a very real option in this tournament. Teams lost either if they capitulated by mutual consensus or if a single member was lost. A popular strategy in the past had always been to focus attacks on the weakest member of the group. Sometimes teams played dirty, Gerad had said, ambushing opponents outside of battle to make them lose by default. One had to be constantly on your guard when in this tournament, whether fighting or resting, because some people cared not for the glory but the prize. 

Like us. I was half-tempted to do some of these underhanded techniques myself. 

The last of the row of pennons was hung---there must have been over a hundred teams listed on the colourful flags plastering the gate walls. Still, I had no doubt of our ability to win, fair or unfair. With Gerad's auto-crossbow, my own skill, and Goofy's ability to follow orders without thinking, we could definitely take on warriors with ridiculous names like 'Anaxagoras' and 'Nikephoros' or 'Ephranor' and 'Fantoccini.' 

.... .... ...fanto... ccini... ....? 

My heart painfully threw itself against my ribcage, over and over, as the air tried to throttle me, catching my lungs in a seizure. My vision funnelled, skewing in on the blocky letters, tracing over each one carefully, making sure that there was no mistake in what my eyes saw. F. It couldn't be. A. This was a sheer coincidence. N. Maybe it's a common name. T. Sure, it didn't have a resemblence to the sound of others. O. Probably a foreigner, like us. C. Yeah, a foreigner _like us_. C. Just because that was his nickname before. I. The Adventures of Delacroix and Fantoccini. N. Because he hated his real surname and wanted something so much cooler. I. 

'It means 'shadow puppet.' It's perfect for our shadow plays, huh? Mom suggested it!' 

My skin crawled and I rubbed my arms. The crown charm trilled quietly and I froze. 

Eyes. Watching. 

As if manipulated by faraway strings, I slowly turned my head away from that _name_, toward the Coliseum, toward the tall marble steps, toward the feeling of those _eyes_, toward the darkness behind the forest of pillars before the amphitheater. 

The shadows danced red. 

Dimly, I could hear someone--Gerad?--calling my name. The columns reared and jumped as I stepped toward them, slowly at first, and then faster, faster, ever faster. 

The white trees swallowed the red whole, and all my desperation clawed free from my chest with a strangled sound. Donald lashed out at me as I stumbled into him, but I paid him no mind, knocking him aside as I bolted up the steps two, three at a time. I left his shrieks behind as I plunged into the shadows of the silent sentinels, the stone shutting me in. 

Arches, arches, arches all about, doors leading down myriad paths into unknown lairs with their sleeping beasts. The darkness was alive with torchlight, flitting away from the afternoon sun skirting the edges of the marble pillars. I turned around and around in a frenzy, doors weaving in frantic pattern, my breath explosive in my ears and driving nails into my brain. 

And then there! The trailing end of the red, the soft step on stone slabs. This foyer was too large, too wide, that arch too far away; all my speed brought me to it, but the orange corridor beyond was devoid of anything but static reliefs and busts of the ever-watching faces of carved gods. 

My sneakers slapped down as I ran, hammers on the floor, a hollow, staccato beat as I turned corners left, right, left, right through the labyrinthine bowels of the Coliseum. Was I chasing a ghost again, like in Traverse Town? No, I saw the red. I saw it! Right at my fingertips, hands reaching out to slap against rock. Each hallway looked the same, with the same cold stone and the same blank eyes of the witnesses to my wretchedness. Sora's pendant clinked, rebounding through the narrow corridors, and from faraway, an answering chime echoed repeatedly in reply. I ran faster. 

And when I finally realized that I would be running for eternity, that dreams could never be caught, that there would never be light at the end of this tunnel, I turned that last corner to face the colour of clear sky. 

Which glimmered and boiled like sun shining through water, shining eyes sucking my soul dry. 

"Sora..." 

---------w-h-a-t--i-'-m--l-o-o-k-i-n-g--f-o-r--------- 

BGM 06: _I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For_, U2 

Had to do some research on Ancient Greece, as I actually know very little about it. Obviously I had to take a lot of liberties with the creation of this City-State Not Unlike Athens, but I tried to be accurate enough that it was believable. Throwing in obvious RPG elements and actual points made in the game changed a lot of the true info about Greece (I pretty much picked up Olympus' Coliseum and clanked it down next door to the Parthenon ;), but I'd like to think I did passable enough. 

I HATE making up last names for characters that don't have them, probably cause when I see other people do it, I think they sound so stupid. Unfortunately, I needed an alias for Riku, so a surname makes sense. As such, syn!Riku now has a French last name yanked from a famous painter and has the double purpose of making Riku into some kind of weird Christ-like figure. (Delacroix = of the cross). Me = dweeb. I don't like it, actually, but it's leeched onto my leg and won't let go. 

Wow. #o# You know, I still get thrown by all the wonderful reviews I'm left. Again, thank you so much, everyone, for not only reading the fic (and keeping up with it!), but also for taking the time to write a review. Those reviews have actually helped me a lot, making sure I didn't forget about this story during this year-long hiatus. 

Not much else to say in closing about this chapter, other than it was a bit of a pain in the arse and ate up one empty notebook all by itself. A hundred points to the people who know who Gerad is, you can redeem them for something, I think. (LOL) 

All art for Syn, including an illust for this chapter, the gift art, and the cover, can be found at:

**syn.morethanart.org**

Comments and criticism always welcome. 


	8. fragment: Synonymy:03c1

**Fragment**: Synonymy:03.c.1  
**Author name**: Ruaki  
**Author email**: ruakichan at aol dot com  
**Category**: Drama/Romance?, Kingdm Hearts  
**Keywords**: Riku, Sora, post-KH 

**Spoilers**: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.

**Disclaimer**: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! .

**Author's Note**: Syn:03: Riku sleeps at the jewelry shop. And Cid...

**Special Author's Note for ff dot net** : Okay, so I uploaded this namely just to keep Syn fresh, and to say, yes, it's still going. Anyway, since the story is in Riku's point of view, we don't get a lot of a chance to see what other characters were thinking and doing, right? Well, during Syn:03, we don't know what was Cid was doing from the time Riku fell asleep till the two met again in the center square. So ... this 'fragment' is a short story detailing just what did occur. Fragments are not looked over by my betas, so all mistakes are of my own. As of right now, this fragment is only available here at , cause you guys rule and stuff. So please enjoy. Also, Syn:07 is progressing nicely, for those wondering.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thin trails of white steamed from his large nose, hissing out like twin snakes to give him the appearance of a guarding dragon. It was silent, save for the hum of the night lights casting a dying yellow glow on the glass display cases. Teeth chewed on the filter of his cigarette thoughtfully as he watched the pale boy sleep. The fire had long died in the hearth, red embers fading to black. Night had fallen.  
  
Cid dragged long on his cigarette, sucking the stick down to the filter, before removing it from his mouth and tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Long streams of smoke gusted into the air, hazing the soft light into the misshapen forms of lost ghosts. He knew what to do; he trusted his instincts, relying on that mystic sixth sense which had saved him during many battles and sticky situations.  
  
At the same time... this boy was a stigma.  
  
Leaning forward, he ground the cigarette down into the ashtray on the table, rubbing the stiffness from the back of his neck. He wasn't as young as he used to be; his bones ached even at the idea of a new war to be fought. Venus Gospel had been stored away a long time ago, when the idea of fighting had simply ... tired him. So now he made pretty pieces of harmless jewelry for dottering old women and played with his rocket engines on the side, holding onto his forgotten dreams of flying; even when the Heartless had come, he was reluctant to hold the haft of his polearm even to strike down the enemy.  
  
It wasn't his battle.  
  
He stood slowly, old bones popping loud in the empty silence. His arthritis was acting up again; it was probably cool and damp outside.  
  
Quietly, he made the usual nightly rounds about the store, checking and double-checking that each case was locked and all his tools were put away. Traverse Town had little problem with crime, but years of habit had been ground down into automatic routine.  
  
After cleaning up the remains of dinner, Cid pulled a woolen blanket from an overhead cabinet, shaking it out. He kept it there for the nights he decided to work late, opting rather to sleep in the store than head home. He smirked a little to himself as he bunched the material in his fingers, callused skin snarling the wool. He was getting soft. Buying the kid dinner and now letting him sleep in his shop?  
  
Plus getting a blanket to cover him with, no less.  
  
Wouldn't Shera just get a giggle over that if she knew? Maybe tease him a little about patriarchial urges. Fuck that shite.  
  
Snorting, he trudged over toward the sleeping kid--Ruki, Reeki, Ricky, Riku, yeah, that's it--and carefully laid the blanket over him, while resisting the urge to tuck him in. Hell no, he wasn't feeling fatherly toward nothing.  
  
A hand absently smoothed the covers across Riku's shoulders, wrapping the hem close. The moogle in Riku's lap chirped before flopping over, bulbous nose twitching with the breath of sleep, knocking the jeweller out of his reverie. With a low curse, Cid scowled at his traitorous appendage and it wisely drew back.  
  
"Keyblade Master, huh..." Cid shook his head, digging for his pack of cigarettes, pulling out another stick. He stuck it between his lips, sucking on the end. "You ain't gonna be jack shite if you don't frickin' believe in it," he quietly told the deeply slumbering boy.  
  
He shook his head again, turning to leave. No need to lock up; he'd be back soon. The breeze was chill, nipping his skin when he opened the door, its hinges squeaking. He inhaled the sharp air as he stepped out, the door shutting against his back, nudging him forward. Fumbling around, Cid found his lighter, sparking it to life; shielding the tiny flame from the playful breeze, he lit his cigarette and inhaled the pungent smoke.  
  
Well, he'll inform Leonhart anyway and let _him_ sort out on what to do with the kid. It wasn't his battle, not this time.  
  
Tendrils of fog clamped around his feet as he passed through the dead streets of the town; night and day physically looked the same here, but the atmosphere was still different. Night just always carried the aura of foreign shadows and unfamiliar landscapes, of death and emptiness. No one took to the streets of Traverse Town at night, especially as of late, what with the rumours of Heartless roaming the abandoned wards flying about.  
  
People feared the unknown. It was a fact of life, one that Cid was bitterly aware. People feared the unknown--it could be something as exotic as fantastical creatures or something as mundane as the starry sky overhead. That fear of the unknown was what had stifled Cid's own dream, the dream to sail among the silver dust speckling the black sea which they called space.  
  
People relied too much on their senses, on the tangible things that they could see and hear or taste and touch. And therein was the greatest weapon the Heartless had; Cid had seen many monsters during his own fighting career, some more frightening in appearance than the Heartless, some larger, some faster, some smarter. But only the Heartless, those small black insects, held the greatest weapon: no one could understand why they did what they did.  
  
Monsters attacked because they were carnivorous, villains attacked because they were homicidal or megalomaniacal, but the Heartless simply... attacked. And stole. And multiplied. It was like taking the fear of the unknown and giving it a body. They raped and consumed hearts, but no one understood why or what happened to the ones lost.  
  
Physical death could be easily grasped by human thought, but spiritual death was something only fear knew.  
  
Cid sighed, exhaling the last of his nicotine and dropping the stub to the cobblestones as he stopped in front of a squat little house. Its owner had disappeared a long time ago, so Leonhart had commandeered it for their use. Yuffie had fixed it up; as much as Cid teased her, he had to gruffly admit that the house was in better shape than it was before. Now it served as a commune for the hidden hand of the King.  
  
He couldn't remember just how he got roped into helping Leonhart and his ilk out, but it was probably the same soft spot which made him stop Riku from walking out of his shop earlier in the day. Damn, he really hated the hero types. Why was he always stuck helping them? More damn trouble than they're worth.  
  
The lights were on, so he let himself in without any ceremony. Yuffie immediately tackled him, hugging him once before playfully punching him in the shoulder. He growled at her, grabbing her arm before she could dance away and demanded his cigarettes back. She made a face at him, obviously hoping she wouldn't get caught this time. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she returned his beloved sticks of nicotine, slapping them down hard onto his open palm.  
  
"You should really quit smoking! It's bad for you!" The ninja wagged a finger under his nose.  
  
Cid scowled darkly, tucking the pack away and making sure nothing else had been stolen. "Ain't gonna quit, goddammit, so stop liftin' 'em."  
  
"One shouldn't separate a bear from his honey," Leon's reticent voice floated from the back. The young man was leaning against a wall, arms folded over his chest, gazing out the window into the darkness.  
  
"Wow, Squall, you actually made a ... well, kind of a joke." Yuffie clapped her hands together, bouncing over to the young man, beaming at him. "I think that's some serious progress there."  
  
"Fhn." He paused, eyes flicking once over her before returning to their study of the shadows. "And it's Leon."  
  
"Oh, right! Sorry."  
  
Cid plopped down at the table which dominated the center of the room, frowning at the paperwork scattered over the battered wooden surface. "Where's Aeris?"  
  
"Out." Leon moved then, gracefully unfolding himself from the wall and gliding to the table. "We received word that the King's envoy should be here soon. She went out to meet them."  
  
Cid's fingers twitched. He felt the need for another cigarette. "Keyblade Master's here."  
  
"What!" Yuffie bounded to the table, hands slapping against the surface. "No way, already?! When? How? Who? Is he cute?"  
  
The ex-pilot shot her an annoyed look, fingers tap-tap-tapping. "Walked right into my bloody shop, lookin' like an abandoned lil' pup."  
  
Leon caught what Cid was not saying. "You don't believe he's the one."  
  
"He can be whatever he frickin' wants," and Cid finally gave into the cry for nicotine, pulling out another cigarette. His third in the span of twenty minutes. He hadn't chain-smoked like this in a long time.  
  
Yuffie pouted at him as he lit up, but he ignored her, inhaling deeply. "He just ain't gonna be able to friggin' do it."  
  
The faintest of creases lined Leonhart's forehead and Cid smirked wryly at that. Leon didn't give much into outward displays of emotion; the young man was obviously deeply puzzled by Cid's words to show that much.  
  
But Cid really had no way to explain it. The kid fucking bled stigmata; it was pockmarked all over him like thousands of eyes which wept red tears. This wasn't a Keyblade Master; this was a fucking marionette going through the motions of pretending to be one.  
  
"Are you sure he's the one we're looking for?" Leon's tone belied none of his puzzlement.  
  
Cid shrugged. "He's a bloody Keyblade Master."  
  
"Did you see the keyblade?"  
  
"No."  
  
Yuffie frowned, chewing on a nail as she mulled that over. "Then, like, how do you know he's a Keyblade Master?"  
  
"Intuition."  
  
Leon's lips quirked. "Intuition."  
  
"Yep." Cid breathed smoke, grey curtaining his face. "Frickin' bloody intuition."  
  
"The same intuition that says he's 'not going to be able to do it'?" A faintly sardonic tone edged the normally reserved voice.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Hey, cut! Cut!" Yuffie held up her arms, crossing them over her chest in an X. "Cid, you don't mean that you don't think that we can't win against these Heartless, do you?"  
  
"I ain't sayin' that. Geezus frickin-ay, clean out yer ears, girl!" Cid leaned back in his chair, balancing himself on the back two legs, flicking ashes onto the floor. "Yall'll know what the hell I'm talkin' about when ya lay yer own two squinty eyes on him. He don't _believe_."  
  
"Huh?" Yuffie tilted her head. "Believe?"  
  
Leon said nothing, pale eyes staring unblinkingly at the older man.  
  
Cid shrugged again, scratching his stomach. "He's sleepin' right now. I'll bring 'im over 'morrow and yall can see for yer own bloody selves. King's envoy should be here too, eh? We'll have a friggin' party."  
  
"Man, who pissed in your corn flakes today, Cid?" Yuffie made a face at him.  
  
He bit down on the cigarette, folding up a sheet of paper carefully. "Got the feelin' the flamin' universe's turned on its head." He took careful aim and shot the paper plane at the girl. "Got the feelin' that someone's shoved us up against a bloody hard wall and is now screwin' us in the ass full throttle."  
  
Yuffie snatched the plane out of mid-air, smoothing the folds. "Nice visual."  
  
With a soft sound, Leon turned back to the window, sliding into the shadows. "Bring him early tomorrow, Cid. If he is the Keyblade Master, failure won't be an option."  
  
"Aye-aye." Cid got up, stretched. "Gonna head back to make sure sleepin' beauty's still in Neverland."  
  
"Cid!" Yuffie glared him, hands on her hips. "You left out one very important thing!"  
  
The old man blinked at her, confused. "Eh?"  
  
She grinned impishly at him, dark eyes sparkling. "So, is he cute or not?"

-------------------------  
  
The shop was empty.  
  
Cid cursed, loud and vicious. Where the hell would the kid wander off to at this time of night?  
  
Fingers suddenly crawled up his spine, stroking goosebumps from his skin. The faintest tinge of fear scented the air. The night, cool and silent, now hulked like the inside of a devil's maw.  
  
Heartless were stirring.  
  
More curses rolled from his tongue. Without thinking, he darted to the back of the store, sliding aside a false panel to reveal a safe. Numbers whizzed by as he rolled the code, flinging open the heavy door when the lock clicked. The faint night-lighting streaked in, passing over boxes, gears, and uncut jewels, before softly haloing upon a polearm mounted on pegs in the back.  
  
He hesitated.  
  
The kid didn't believe. So why should Cid believe? Could he believe in someone so mortally wounded, so stigmatized?  
  
Fuck. Fuck. ... shit, he did it once before. So what the hell. Right?  
  
His fingers closed around the haft of Venus Gospel.

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I hope you enjoyed the fragment. Thank you so much for reading. I'll post Syn:07 the moment it's available for public consumption! I really do appreciate all the reviews I get--I'm terribly sorry that I can't answer them all personally, but I'll be more than happy to address any emails if you'd like to talk.

C&C welcome.


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